


Hobbit Oneshots

by gh0st3d



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multi, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2020-03-07 09:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 190,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18870436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gh0st3d/pseuds/gh0st3d
Summary: You and Bofur share an intimate moment before the BOFA. Bofur is such an underloved character and I don’t know why because he’s so charming and adorable! This is part 1 of a 2 part fluffy/steamy/smutty oneshot, but with some plot thrown in. I hope you like! Go bof you some Bofur! :D





	1. Foreword

A collection of primarily mini-stories and oneshots both SFW and NSFW (mostly NSFW) of the J.R.R Tolkien fandom from The Hobbit movies mainly involving you, the reader, and our beloved characters! Works NSFW will be noted in the notes of the chapters.

Requests are welcome! (As long as you don't mind an extended waiting period.)


	2. A Dying Wish (BofurxReader) Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Bofur share an intimate moment before the BOFA. Bofur is such an underloved character and I don’t know why because he’s so charming and adorable! This is part 1 of a 2 part fluffy/steamy/smutty oneshot, but with some plot thrown in. I hope you like! Go bof you some Bofur! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None, really. Except slightly NSFW discussions.  
> 

You never thought Bofur was capable of being sad.

Of course, everyone gets upset at some point or another but it was easy to forget that with him. The silly-hatted, jovial guy was always so upbeat and optimistic with a smile that seemed permanently etched onto his face; no one would have ever known if he had been struggling with personal issues nor have any true inkling as to what really went on inside that whimsical mind of his that wasn’t anything other than rainbows and sunshine.

It was one of those endearing qualities of his that had you easily overlooking those sort of things, and that fact never would have occurred to you at all if you hadn’t happened to truly take notice of him when he thought nobody was looking. It happened just after Mirkwood and you couldn’t help but keep noticing ever since.

To the casual observer, it would appear that this worry-free dwarf lived his life without qualms and had achieved total zenness. But in the few moments where you happened to catch him alone, the big smile had evolved into a frown. His twinkling eyes turned downcast and distant. The inner darkness that he kept locked inside was kept very close to the chest -- or maybe under his hat with how often he wore the thing.

With having to deal with Thorin’s dragon sickness and now the impending battle, it only seemed to amplify Bofur’s troubles to the point where you knew it wasn’t just a passing issue because it began to creep in to how he interacted with the others.

You meant to bring it up to him, but there was never an opportune moment to do so and you didn’t want to put in the trouble if it truly turned out to be nothing.

But just in case, you asked Bombur if Bofur confided in him about it but the rotund dwarf offered you no solace on the matter. Whether he knew and just chose not to tell you out of the bonds of brotherhood, or if he truly had no idea, you weren’t certain.

But it was beginning to eat away at you. You _had_ to know what was up.

There was no denying it. You had grown quite fond of the guy over the course of the journey. Bofur was one of the first friends that you made in the group and it nearly killed you seeing him so down and he never once came to you about it regardless of your close friendship to one another, which stung a little if you were to be honest.

Even now as you watched him sitting beside you wrapped up in tales of times long since passed, you wondered what was really going on behind those big brown eyes of his that he was keeping to himself.

Just then, Gloin clumped his way down the stairs with haste, eager to get out of the climate outside. “It’s colder than a snowman’s arse out there! Mind the fire, laddie,” he said, nodding at Bofur.

“Well,” Bofur winked as he turned to you and gave your knee an affectionate clap. “Looks like it’s my watch. Have a good night, lass.”

He stood and bid everyone else goodnight and your eyes followed after him as he departed up the stone stairs until he was out of sight.

The next few hours you and a couple others remained huddled by the warmth indulging in light conversation and tended to the fire. It wasn’t long before they started nodding off. And while they could find rest easily, you couldn’t. The fire pit was warm and inviting and your ears were able to tune out the sound of sawed logs -- after growing accustomed to the noise over the course of the year together -- but your thoughts kept wandering up the stairs to where Bofur was, robbing you of any hope of sleep.

As you stared into the flames, you recalled all the times you shared with the Company up to now and how much your friendship and bond has grown with them even with your differing races.

There was an unspoken oddity in there being a human female joining an all-male quest of 13 dwarves, a wizard, and a hobbit. Though you’ve proved yourself in combat and earned your place amongst them, it was still a strange sight and admittedly challenging for just about everyone to adapt when it came to living and traveling together at first.

But no matter what obstacles surfaced, Bofur was always there for you and had been from the start. He was a blunt, honest, caring, witty, and an inherently hilarious, friend that you grew rather dependent on. You lost count on how often you went to him when your heart needed uplifting and you saw how he offered comfort to the others when they were in need of it, but not once did you ever recall him unloading his own worries.

It was then that you decided to be the one to cheer _him_ up for once. He obviously needed it and you wanted to let him know that you were there for him, too. That you cared.

After quietly removing yourself from the sleeping group, you made your way up the staircase and onto the terrace. It was deathly cold away from the fire pit, and it was even colder out in the night air particularly from this height. Your eyes searched for the hatted dwarf and found him standing post next to one of the burning canned fires staring off into the night at the battle tents pitched below.

A rush of wind breezed by freezing you right down into your bones. It seemed to laugh at the amount of garb you had on and you shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself to block the chill from spreading. Bofur didn’t appear to be affected by it, but that was likely because he was a dwarf; naturally hot-blooded, thick skinned, and too stubborn to “let the cold win”. As you approached him he didn’t seem to notice your presence as he looked lost in thought, but then without looking at you:

“S’awful cold, lass. What’re you doin’ up here? You should get back inside to stay warm.”

You sidled up on the other side of the fire and shot him a smile, doing your best to suppress another violent shiver as you tried to warm yourself. This fire was significantly weaker than the one being used downstairs and the wind wasn’t helping it any. How could he not be freezing after being exposed in this for so long? Well, he did have that ridiculous hat and always wore gloves and a scarf... Meanwhile you had a laughable bear minimum and a borrowed, too-big cloak.

“Meh, couldn’t sleep. So, I decided to brave the cold and come keep you company.”

“Aw, how kind of ya,” he returned your grin. Bofur looked tired, but did his best to hide it behind his deep, dimpled grin.

Shortly after your idle pleasantries, you two indulged in some small talk about nothing in particular, purposefully avoiding certain topics about what was to happen by daybreak so as to keep the mood light. It wasn’t long before you both delved into hushed bouts of laughter.

Being in Bofur’s company was always a pleasant experience and you couldn’t help but smile and laugh along with him. It just came naturally whenever you both were together. He had that special charm about him that radiated happy.

“I said it once and I’ll say it again,” Bofur chuckled. “You are one of a kind.”

With a flustered, rather foolish-looking grin, you turned your gaze to the view of the expanse of land beyond Erebor where you all traveled not too long ago. It was hard to believe you all had finally made it considering everything you’ve went through just to get there. Despite the storm of the oncoming battle brewing below, there was an air of calm before all hell was to be unleashed come morning.

“You know,” you started, “I never noticed since there hasn’t really been a chance to catch our breath but it’s actually very beautiful here.”

“Oh aye. Erebor has always been the grandest of kingdoms,” he agreed and went on to explain its magnificence back in the “glory days” and what life was like before Smaug. With Bofur’s gift for storytelling and embellishing, you were able to clearly picture the land in a different setting based on his colorful description as he gestured to the land before you, then directing your attention back to the rubble behind, and finally to Dale where the marketplace was and so forth as the story permitted. _A setting that may or may not ever take root again_ , you thought to yourself in disdain. _But even if it does, I won’t even be here to see it._

Geez, what a sobering thought that was.

“I’ll be sad to leave it…” you sighed, letting your eyes sweep across the land to commit as much to memory as you could.

You still hadn’t planned where you’d go after the dwarves reclaimed their homeland. It’s not like they overtly asked you to live here with them, but you certainly didn’t want to assume or impose your welcome without invite. You had lost your own home long ago due to an orc raid and were a nomad for basically all your life afterward trying to find work where you could but belonging to no permanent residence.

That’s another reason why you felt so akin to the dwarves and their cause when fate brought you all together on the road; having nowhere to belong (and sharing a mutual hatred and vendetta towards that despicable race) was something you both had in common. But now that the quest was almost over, you realized with a start that you didn’t exactly plan on what would happen next. But if you had to be honest, you didn’t want to leave. You liked the dwarves. They felt like family...

Bofur was quiet for a moment.

“Where would you go?” he asked faintly, observing your face which lacked true resolve.

You dug your hands under your armpits to warm them and moved closer to the fire. Your fingers were like ice cubes and you pressed your hands tighter into your body so they could soak in your body heat; in a way it was like offering yourself a hug, which honestly was very much needed at the moment. This never was a happy topic for you to discuss.

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it until now. I’ve always been on the road for my whole life. I’m a vagabond; an endlessly wandering social outcast that doesn’t fit in with other people. And I just… I want to finally _belong_ somewhere -- like you.”

Bofur blew a breath and leaned back on his heels, digesting your words. You turned to look at him, sensing he was about to speak. You knew without question that he understood. They’ve been homeless a good part of their lives too, after all. But, unlike your band of dwarves, you didn’t have a home you were able to return to or claim back.

“You could belong here,” Bofur offered.

He reaffirmed his statement more firmly after you scoffed in disbelief, “You’re one of the Company, Y/N. You’ve fought with us, lived with us, put up with our shenanigans and you’re willing to die with us when you could have very well went on your way at each given opportunity. It’s only fair that our home is yours as well. Thought that much was obvious by now.”

You gave a lopsided smile, “As much as I appreciate hearing that, you do know that isn’t your call to make, yes?

Bofur huffed and rolled his eyes, knowing you were referring to Thorin, and waved his hand at the implication. “Don’t ya worry about him. If the king gives ya trouble about it, then you can come live with me.”

“You want me to live with you?” you indulged blithely as you tapped your chin in thought. “Hmm… I’ve always wondered what it was like growing up in the Ur household.”

“Simple, really: full of laughter, lots of food, music, and an endless supply of entertainment. You’ll never be bored, that’s fer certain! I wouldn’t advise passin’ up an opportunity such as this, lest you miss out on great fun every day.”

You laughed at the image.

“Oh, but what would Bombur say to a new addition?”

Bofur rocked on his heels and gave you a sly side stare, “Oh, Bombur will be busy livin’ with his own lass, I expect. As much as I love my niece and nephews and sister-in-law, I’d much prefer he keep them to himself. ‘Cept on special occasions, a’course. It’s no secret that they’d eat us right out of the house.”

“And Bifur?”

“Bifur enjoys his solitude.”

A slow smirk began to build at his implication, “So… you’re saying it would be just the two of us.”

Bofur turned to you fully all serious in the face at first but his mustache twitched up in amusement as the growing smile reached his eyes.

“I make a mean pheasant stew; a secret family recipe that no one outside us Urs have ever tasted -- I’ll make it for ya. I’m quite handy with housework, too, and as an added bonus you get to wake up to this handsome mug every mornin’,” he smugly jerked his thumb towards himself and wiggled his eyebrows complete with his puffed out chest.

You couldn't hold back the fit of giggles at his confidence. He merely smiled in response, unshaken by it.

“It’s tempting… very tempting. But do you think you can handle living with me?” you challenged playfully, though now honestly pondering the thought of what living with him would be like.

“Aye, you’d give any lad a run for his coin. I’ve seen what you look like early in the mornin’ and I must say, the things you mutter in your sleep alone are…” he whistled low and shook his head. “I wager I’m the only one truly qualified to take on the task.”

“Hey!” you shoved his shoulder.

“I’ll manage someway! Somehow!” he vowed in theatrical determination.

You both shared a laugh at the fictional future you painted for yourselves. And you couldn’t help but wonder if any of what he said was true about him or if it was all said in cordial fondness. It was all good fun but you wanted to give him a piece of your mind to remind him that he wasn’t exactly the epitome of beauty either in the early dawn when another gust of wind caused you to huddle closer to the fire instead, desperate for its warmth.

“Annnd,” Bofur added, moving in close and dropped his voice low as if he were about to share a deep secret. “I have it on good authority that I can very much keep you warm on cold nights such as this. You just say the word an’ I’ll ‘hold you close in my ‘strong, talented studly dwarven arms.’”

You blushed a deep scarlet red, recalling that one specific morning he was hinting at where you woke up tangled in Bofur’s embrace; legs and arms wrapped brazenly around him, your face buried into the crook of his neck -- you definitely hadn’t started out that way when you fell asleep. Waking up in his arms was bad enough but apparently you talked in your sleep, too.

A lot.

Saying some rather… _suggestive_ requests along with what he just quoted to you. It was completely out of your control, but when you learned what happened the moment you opened your eyes to meet his, you were absolutely mortified by your actions but Bofur remained good-natured about it and laughed it off, commenting that he had the best sleep he had in months and was all smiles and struts everytime you were near. Even going so far as to flex his arm muscles, the cheeky bastard.

Oddly enough, no one seemed all too surprised.

Thorin made his disapproval about your "inappropriate display of affections" known despite your protests and denials but nonetheless you had become subject to the Company’s relentless teasing at your expense for weeks afterward and from then on you slept as far away from everyone as you could, despite Bofur trying to “entice” you back into his embrace each night. He became such a ham after he learned you dreamed about him in such a way, which didn't help.

“Ugh, I’m never living that down am I,” you laughed dryly.

Bofur chuckled through his nose like an impish kid and stood taller, “Sorry, lass. Your maidenly image will forever be tainted by your rather tasteful fantasies of yours truly. I’m flattered! Really, I am!”

“Gods help me,” you laughed, shaking your head and mock-cursing the heavens.

A beat of companionable silence stretched between you both and you took that as your cue, almost forgetting why you went out there in the first place.

“Hey… can I ask you something?”

He made a chipper noise for you to proceed.

“Is everything okay with you? You haven’t been the same lately.”

He hesitated and tilted his head inquiringly, “How do you mean?”

“You just seem... Bofur, all joking aside, I hope you know that I care a great deal about you and I consider you very dear to me. You know that you can talk to me if anything’s bothering you, right? Gods knows you’ve listened to me ramble along like a loon more times than I care to admit.”

“Well, people underestimate a good ramble,” Bofur noted lightly after a pause but didn’t say anything more about it.

“Sooo, ramble to me. Complain, unload your worries; something! Tell me what’s been troubling your mind,” you pried gently with a hand on his shoulder.

Be it your words or your touch of support, at last, Bofur’s mask slipped off of his face to reveal the one hiding beneath it that you’ve only caught glimpses of from afar. Now he knew that he couldn’t charm his way out of denying it to you because you saw. He gave a deep sigh, the heat of his breath causing a puff of vapor to appear in front of him and faded into the night air.

Bofur frowned and turned his sights ahead of him and away from you while he collected his response to that.

You waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts, watching as he struggled for words, understanding if he chose not to divulge his inner feelings with you. After all, if it was something he truly couldn’t handle, he would have come to you or someone else, right? Or maybe he was one of those types of people who could resolve their issues on their own. Suddenly you began to regret poking your nose into his business. He’s never done that to you after all, and here you were pulling teeth on matters that didn’t concern you.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted. “I didn’t mean to pry, I’m only concerned. You’re always there for me when I need someone and I always feel so much better after talking to you. I just wanted to return the favor. But I completely understand if you’d rather not talk about it!”

After a particularly violent shiver from another gust of wind, you hissed at the chill. You knew he could hear your teeth chattering and that was just embarrassing. But you didn’t want to go back inside; you’d stay out here as long as you could for as long as he needed you -- _if_ he needed you -- though you feared he would use the cold as an excuse to urge you inside so he could avoid the conversation.

In the growing silence that bubbled between you borderlining on being discomforting, Bofur observed your face and finagled his scarf from his neck to drape around yours with care.

The expression on his face was one you had never seen before and you couldn’t quite place what emotion he was portraying even though his eyes were focused on getting the scarf on properly. Your worries rose with the heat of your blush as the quiet became deafening to your ears. Nothing but the crackling of the fire, the wind, and your heart pounding in your ears could be heard in the night and you remained painfully aware of his every move praying he wouldn’t shoo you away.

Bofur’s gloved hands wound the knitted material around you and fastened it into a loose knot. His fingers rested on the ends of it, rubbing the woven yarn between them whilst in thought.

He sighed again and your heart stopped, anticipating he had made up his mind on sending you away and you swallowed the lump in your throat to brace yourself.

“I’m scared,” he admitted.

“About what?” you returned carefully.

Bofur retracted his hands and backed up to lean against the broken ledge of the terrace and you joined him at his side unsure of where the discussion would lead.

“Little things, as we neared Erebor. And, well, they got me thinkin’.”

He paused and you nodded in acknowledgement, letting him know he had your full attention. Bofur smirked to himself before mumbling something along the lines of "I'm surprised you watched me long enough to notice" and he prepared to open up to you and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in the moment you saw signs of his walls come down.

"Before the quest I had small ideals outlined for my life on what I intended to do after we reclaimed Erebor and got my share of the riches. But then somewhere along the way…"

He glanced at you quickly to see if you were still looking and refocused somewhere else.

“Plans change. I haven’t been truly happy in some time even before the quest, and now that death is upon our door, perhaps I am more distraught about it. I knew I was missing something. Or maybe I just needed a drink, I don’t really know. But should it be the end as we know it, I’m worried at how little I’ve accomplished and all the things I won’t be able to do; words that are too late to say.”  

You didn’t know how to respond to that.

Of all things he could have divulged, that was not what you expected to hear, but then again you didn’t really know _what_ to expect him to tell you. Despite all possibilities, it was a completely logical reason that could weigh down on anyone’s mind, but what made it hard to believe was that this was… _Bofur_ telling you this...

The dwarf with a skip in his step. The dwarf with the infectious smile. The dwarf with the cheerful disposition who always looked on the bright side of life. Were these two different dwarves really one in the same?

“Huh, I never would have thought that would have been the source of your distress,” you thought out loud.

Bofur’s chuckle came out as a soft rumble in his chest and he quirked a playful eyebrow to chide you, “Despite what the lads may say to you, we aren’t actually made of stone. We still have feelings, y’know.”

Realizing what you just said, you blushed and frantically waved your hands in fear that he misunderstood your views of him. “I didn’t mean it like that! I meant that it’s such a simple thing to be upset about -- not that it isn’t justified! I’m just shocked that you of all people-- I mean, well, when you think about it-- ugh, gods… no wonder you never unburdened yourself on me, I’m terrible.”

Bofur grinned and patted your arms affectionately, “Now, don’t say that! You’re many things but terrible isn’t one of ‘em. I never liked the idea of being a burden to anyone, is all. I’m used to dealing with my troubles on my own and you had plenty without me addin’ on to it. I hate seein’ ya upset, lass, especially if it’s because of me.”

You peeked through your fingers from where had your face hidden and slowly lowered them.

“Well, I don’t like it when you’re upset, either. Bofur, we’re friends! That’s what friends are for. It’s not healthy bottling things like this up, you’ll go mad -- well, no more than usual,” you muttered that last part under your breath in jest to lighten the mood and Bofur took it in stride with a feigned, overly dramatic look of hurt.

“Do you at least feel a little better talking about it despite my lack of skills in comfort?” you inquired lamely as you fiddled with the end of his scarf to avoid his eye.

“Actually, yes. I do,” he smiled softly. “You’re right, I should have done this long ago. If only I hadn’t waited until I lost all my marbles; I’d start addin’ ‘em back in my hat.”

You snickered and tapped your temple, “I think I may have some to spare if you haven’t already taken them along the way.”

“Oi, don’t confuse me with Nori now! I fully intend to reimburse you fer all your pretty marbles,” he clutched his hat protectively and you both broke into another round of giggles. Ah, this was the Bofur you knew.

You scooted closer and clasped your hands together in front of you with a little bow, “Well, consider me entirely at your disposal now, master dwarf. Whenever you need anyone to lend an ear, I’ve got two to spare.”

To emphasize your point, you cupped both of your ears and wiggled them.

Bofur smiled at your silliness but then his eyes roamed your face melting the fond look into a pensive one and he scratched the back of his head. You frowned, wondering if you missed something.

“There’s… more. More that I’d like to say,” he admitted in an uncharacteristically somber tone.

You gave a reassuring smile, “I’m listening.”

He nodded appreciatively and then sighed with resignation.

“Truth is, I’m lonely, lass. Painfully so,” Bofur muttered sadly. You saw that his brows were furrowed into a frown that didn’t belong on his usually cheerful face. You placed a cold, supportive hand on top of his warm one, ignoring his comment on “how chilled to the bone” you were, and gave an affectionate squeeze.

“Lonely? But you have your friends, your brother and your cousin… we’re all here with you, together.”

Bofur retreated from you with visible difficulty and then clarified rather bashfully, “I’m lonely for a companion, Y/N. For the touch of another--” he placed his hands over the crackling fire to warm them, his eyes taking him somewhere you couldn’t follow -- “I haven’t been with anyone in ages. I’m frustrated with needs I’m tired of satisfying on my own with thoughts that just don’t do justice. And the dreams I have… _Mahal_ . I don’t even remember the last time I spent myself into my hand in hope of _some_ relief, for Durin’s sake--”

Your eyes widened, feeling the cold intensify on your face as it heated up at the image of Bofur pleasuring himself. Now knowing the fact that he, and likely the others, had to have tended to their needs at least once while you were on the road together was actually quite an arousing thought. You, on the other hand, found little to no chance of finding an opportunity for relief amongst the company of men. How and where had Bofur managed it, you had no idea.

And suddenly that was all you could think about now and you’d be lying if you didn’t feel a stir humming through you as you recalled that dream you had many moons ago... Did Bofur’s sexual prowess add up to the dream version that you concocted? Hmm...

“Forgive me, that wasn’t very appropriate to say, was it?” he added with a lighthearted chuckle at your sudden quietness.

“No, no, I understand!”

You were more than happy to be startled out of those thoughts as your body heated with the beginnings of arousal. “Considering all the obscene things we’ve joked about and after waking up to me basically mounted against you, I’d say we’re close enough to justify talking about such matters.”

He snorted at that, “Aye. Well, not many know this about me but I've only ever been with one lover my whole life -- never went all the way with ‘er, mind, but we fooled around. I’ve resigned myself to the notion that I may not get the chance to properly claim my One an’ figured, ah well, after Erebor I’ll make my move. I didn’t think it would bother me as much as it does, but had I known how the perils on this quest were to turn out, that I may very well die tomorrow, I might have tried a bit harder with the time I had. Changed my plan of approach. I’ve been thinking on how nice it would have been to be loved by someone at least once, been _intimate_ at least once, and I’m afraid I may not live to have the chance to...” the sentence drifted, and it sounded like he had something he wanted to add, but he kept the end to himself, especially after he caught the way you were looking at him.

You felt your eyes widen once more in shock. Sure, you’ve had your own share of fears as Erebor drew nearer and nearer. There were many occasions in which all of you could have very well perished. As a human, you were much younger and mortal than any of them so they got to live so much more life than you have, or will have.

There were a lot of things you still wanted to do before you kicked the bucket, including getting married and having a family of your own but you thought dwarves were more driven to their crafts and skills than settling down; you never once stopped to think that perhaps your fears and dreams, and… _urges_ were shared by any of them, least of all with Bofur. Who would have thought that he felt this way, too?

Acting on impulse, you leaned forward and slung your arms around to pull him into a tender hug and he sighed. Due to the height difference, your head was resting against his hat and his face was pressed into the top your bosom, but there was nothing sensual about this embrace.

“Aw, Bofur… you say this as if our fate is already sealed for the worst. It’s not too late! There’s still a chance that we all can make it out of this alive and we _will_ \-- I know it! I believe in you, all of you. You’re the toughest band of dwarves I’ve ever met. And long after this is over and we have a good laugh about it, if you ever feel lonely or sad, promise me you won’t deal with it alone. Come to me, okay?”

You felt Bofur stiffen when you nuzzled into him, but then he quickly wrapped his arms tightly around you, holding you close and steady. His scent filled your nose and was composed of a spiced, woodsy smell reminding you of campfires and summer nights. His facial hair scraped into your neck and his breath came out in warm puffs but you could feel his smile against your skin.

It seemed that both of you really needed that hug. Neither of you pulled away for quite some time. _He’s so warm…_ you noted to yourself.

He then chuckled and sighed sadly before finally letting go of you to smile, “Fine, I promise.”

Your beaming smile faltered when he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The back of his fingers feathered against your cheek as he pulled away and there was now a sudden shift in the mood. You weren’t sure if that gesture was deliberate or held another meaning. But something was different… and you didn’t know what.

The words that followed only seemed to add on to your uncertainty.

“Oh, if only I had a beautiful, caring lass like you to come home to. I’d be quite the lucky dwarrow, indeed. Though, now that I’m sayin’ it out loud, perhaps it’s better that I’m not involved after all.”

You tried not to focus on the way he touched you. How he called you beautiful and how unusually pleased and special it made you feel. What exactly was he implying? It was starting to feel like this wasn't hypothetical conversation anymore. 

“Why?” you questioned.

He shrugged.

“Best not kid ourselves with the odds: as much as I’m hopin’ to believe we’ll pull through this, there’s still a high probability none of us will live to see tomorrow’s eve. Not having a family or wife would alleviate the heartbreak should I lose my life on the battlements.”

Gods, you didn’t even want to imagine the thought.

He kicked at some rubble with his boot, “But even so, and I know this is a very ‘male’ thing to say, but if I had a dying wish, it’d be to leave this world after a good, hot tumble in the hay; share my first night of bliss like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do -- Mahal knows it just might be.”

You didn’t realize you were openly staring at him. Checking him out head to toe in honest consideration. He may not be the type of dwarf most maidens may think of as handsome, but you thought he was a pretty good-looking guy. Thoughts of him pleasing himself had evolved into thoughts of him pleasing you, wondering what type of lover he would be.

It was strange how thoughts like that could suddenly alter your views of someone you considered a friend. But now? You were beginning to consider him as a a potential partner. If he had ever asked you to be his, you wouldn't mind in the slightest.

You started thinking about waking up to him every morning. He probably slept bare chested, and probably liked to cuddle. Gods, did he wear that silly hat of his to bed? Or would he hang it on the door whenever he and you would--

Bofur gave you a seductive wink and lightly pinched your cheek before playfully jostling it. Then he turned his sights back out to where the elves set up camp, “Yer blushin’, lass. Good to know I can keep ye warm in more ways than one.”

You couldn’t answer, your mind was still reeling at his words. His wish. The visuals.

He was right, though… This could very well be your last day of life. A sudden realization came to you then. It just sorta popped right in there, but you had a thought. It was a crazy and completely inappropriate thought -- embarrassing if rejected. But you decided, why not? You liked him, you both flirted on and off for a good part of the year, and he had called you beautiful so he _might_ be interested. Otherwise, you could just laugh it off and say you were kidding and pretend it never happened and beat feet out of there.

“The elves are getting their archers into position,” he nodded out to the distance. He made a further comment on what else was unfolding below, but you didn’t hear him.

“Would you like me to grant your wish for you?” you asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH Bofur is hands-down one of my favorite dwarves in The Hobbit. I bet he gives the best hugs. Part 2 is the finale and contains le smut. Stay tuned!  
> (I'm also on Wattpad as dagh0st)


	3. A Dying Wish (BofurxReader) Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of "A Dying Wish" where Bofur takes you up on your offer and things get steamy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [EXPLICIT]: Smut, smut, smut! 
> 
> Be gentle with me, I haven't written a sexual chapter in quite a many years, so I apologize if it's bad. Also: I'm sorry this chapter is like a friggin'. Novel. I got carried away because... well, it's Bofur. AND HE DESERVES HIS NIGHT OF BLISS!

“Would you like me to grant your wish for you?” you asked.

Bofur’s head whipped up so fast his hat flaps bounced. His inquiring eyes searched yours questioningly. You could see that he was processing your words, wondering if he had heard you right. Then his moustache curled up into a suggestive smirk as he assumed you were making a flirtatious comment as you both tended to do, but when he realized that you were being serious, it dropped and his eyes widened.

“Oh, lass! Th-that’s not what I--I mean to say that--w-we don’t have to… _you_ don’t have to--”

You brought your hand to his mouth to shush him and could feel his quick, warm breath on your exposed fingers. His lips were pleasantly soft and warm beneath your touch. You took a breath, your heart going a mile a minute and praying he couldn’t feel your nervous pulse from beneath your fingertips. You hoped you weren’t making a huge, embarrassing mistake, but with the words already said it was too late to back out now.

“Do you find me attractive?” you inquired with confidence you didn’t possess. Your eyes were acutely focused on his own. Your pupils expanded at what you saw growing in his expression.

“Aye,” he replied without pause, his sight dancing carefully in yours.

Bofur was too blunt and honest to spare anyone’s feelings with lies, which was something you were quite appreciative of, even if it was for something so personal like this.

You felt relief settle in your chest and continued with renewed assurance.

“Good. I know I find _you_ very attractive. And like you said: we may not even survive to see tomorrow’s eve, so why not share a night of bliss with your attractive, willing friend?” you winked.

Bofur blinked a few times but he seemed so relieved and surprised to hear you say that. Hope and excitement were flaring in him as he gazed eagerly up at you.

“Y/N, lass, I… really? Are ye sure?”

Look at that face. How could anyone _not_ want to be with him?

“I really like you, Bofur. I have for quite some time and it would mean the world to be with you like this, if you aren’t opposed to the idea. I know it’s quite improper and very inappropriate, but even so I’m willing to do this if you are,” you responded earnestly.

At that bold confession, Bofur appeared to be even more at a loss for words; mouth opening and closing, many different expressions running across his face at lightning speed. Him being rendered speechless was in and of itself shocking for the usual boisterous chatter mouth that he was.

But then again, talk is just that: talk. As often as the both of you have joked, teased, and implied, neither of you had ever seriously acted on any possible harbored impulses before. Who knew if all his sexual innuendos and comments were nothing more than flirtatious banter between friends?

What gave you consolation on the matter was that although Bofur didn’t give you a response, he still hadn’t outright refused. Right in front of you he was heavily considering the question. And that gave you an odd sense of hope.

You assumed a part of him, the gentlemanly part that you know him to be deep down, wanted to politely decline. But the unquestionably male side of him was telling the gentleman to shut his gob. After all, if he truly was opposed to the idea, he would have immediately said no, right? Right…?

_Oh, gods… please don’t let me make a fool of myself._

Mainly to clear your nerves and set you straight, and in an attempt to set the mood while Bofur’s train of thought was still boarding at the station, you closed the distance between you and slowly leaned your head down giving him an open invitation and ample time to make up his mind. You caught sight of a deep blush on his cheeks in the light of the fire beside you and heard him swallow hard as you prepared to make contact.

Since he didn’t seem to have any intention of stopping you from kissing him, you closed your eyes and pressed your lips against his. You had presumed to feel that expected spark of excitement that usually came with sharing a first kiss, but what you didn’t expect to feel was the flurry of fireworks surging throughout your body like a flower in fast-motion full bloom. It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Like you were lighting up from the inside out; an electrical current rippling through your body, drawing you to Bofur as if your soul had reached out and connected with his.

And your body responded instantly with a full blast of heat, the cold wind of the night temporarily forgotten in the moment your lips met. You were finally coming _alive,_ it seemed. And with how powerful it was, you wondered if he felt it, too. God, you sure hoped he did.

It was only a kiss but it felt _so right._ Like it was the only thing in the world that mattered and made sense. Was this what finding your soulmate was like?

Oh, no...

Unsure of his general response, you began to pull away but you felt Bofur quickly lean his lips back into yours before contact could be lost. With equally quick hands, he reached for your arms and locked on as if he was worried you would suddenly change your mind and bolt. His gloved hands slid down and you were now holding hands, fingers linking together before your lips finally broke apart.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes.

Bofur’s eyes were still closed when you observed his face. His lips were left agape in the absence and anticipation of your mouth’s return. His brown gems fluttered open after a moment and his half-lidded eyes searched yours anxiously and he gave your hands a gentle squeeze of reassurance that you so needed.

“Y/N, I--” his voice started as a shaky whisper but then it strengthened, deepened. “More… _please._ ”

But this time he was the one to make the move leaning back in to steal another lingering kiss. Then another. And another. And another. Each one picking up in speed and intensity as your mouths opened in exploration. He took it a step further and let go of one of your hands to bring his own behind your neck to deepen the kiss while the other slid up your arm and stopping just above your elbow.

You melted. His name escaped you in a soft, appreciative moan.

With a panty-dropping growl, he resumed to ravage your lips confidently with his own, both hands dipping down to grip you tightly against him by your hips and tearing a gasp from you. He was kissing you so wonderfully that it erased all doubts from your mind. His moustache scraped against your skin, creating a tickling friction around your mouth in contrast to his soft lips. One hand remained on your hip and the other went up your back to press you closer and your arms wound around his neck in response.

His hands began to travel. They rounded over your hips, cupped your waist, bypassed around your breasts and neck to cradle your face and he pulled away just long enough for you both to get a quick breath of air. He didn’t waste another minute before his mouth claimed yours once more.

It was a rush of emotions being fired from both sides. Passion. Longing. Desire. Lust. You could feel it building up in him just as he could feel it building in you. Some deep part of you had seemed imprinted on him and wanted this to happen every day for always. And you did your best to keep those feelings locked tight. You had to remember that this was just for one night. A fulfillment of a wish. And you wanted to cherish it despite finally finding your other half.

Your pulse raced at every touch of his hands squeezing at you as they remained in, more or less, respectable locations. But the fabric of your clothing that he was able to get at was in the way and was becoming uncomfortable. That would need to be rectified. And although now was the time, this was not the place and Bofur seemed to have read your mind.

“Let’s find somewhere more private,” he managed huskily once he was finally able to tear his mouth away with a juicy-sounding smack of his lips. His eyes had become black pits and he had a red tint of arousal painted across his dimpled cheeks as his thumb caressed its way along your jaw and then along the plump, swollen flesh of your mouth. He stared longingly at it as if he also yearned to feel your bare skin on his own.

Unable to help yourself you mirrored his actions, enjoying the feel of the warmth and dampness of his lips upon your exposed thumb when you returned the favor. Your breath hitched when his tongue raced after the digit, tasting the slightly unique taste of your skin with an ardent flick. Another puff of vapor escaped his lips as his breath expelled over your thumb as if to savor the flavor of you.

Eyes on him, you indulged his experiment and offered your thumb to him by slipping it between his lips for another taste.

His tongue ran along the pad of your thumb and enjoyed with great satisfaction the sound you made when he suddenly nipped you; it caused him to smirk mischievously.

“We should get Bombur to take over the watch.” You gasped when he sucked your thumb into the warmth of his mouth, feeling his tongue cupping and stroking it with care. The action caused another part of your body to throb and quiver for the same exact attention.

You pulled your thumb away from that wicked mouth of his and leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek, averting his attempt at catching your lips when he maneuvered his face just so. You offered him an innocent grin. It was very fitting somehow that Bofur seemed to love kisses.

“Aye, we should,” he responded, drinking in the sight of you placing the thumb he sucked into your own mouth.

He meant to pull you in for another kiss, but you bypassed his lips again and planted one on his nose, knowing that if he got your mouth you’d be done for and you’d never make it off the terrace. Not that you would have minded, but you didn’t care much for an audience.

Bofur pouted and whimpered impatiently and he awkwardly adjusted himself in an uncomfortable leg shuffle mumbling how it will take a bit to wake the guy. You giggled in full delight that he wanted this as much as you did and he frowned at your laughter but quickly rebounded.

Voice thick with both his accent and arousal, “You enjoy teasin’, do ya? I’ll be sure to remember that.”

Even though you grinned at each other like loons, the sexual tension raged around you both burning hotter than any fire ever could. You meant to step away towards the stairs. Get started with waking up his brother. But you both just stood there smiling. Inching closer like a gravitational pull was pulling you in. Both of you were drawing nearer; reaching, touching.

“Well, you know what they say, anticipation only serves to heighten the pleasure,” you retorted, running your hands up his armored chest, becoming desperate to feel him beneath his layers. You tried picturing what Bofur must look like under there. He was always so heavily clothed.

“That’s not the only thing it heightens,” he shot back with a cheeky wink and hitch of his belt.

Without even thinking about it you dove in after his lips, overpowered by an urge to kiss him. But he jerked back only to earn a look of confusion from you as a result.

Now it was your turn to pout. “Hey…”

Your frustrated whine grew louder and more childish still at each rejection that followed. Bofur laughed and tapped your nose softly when you finally pulled back in defeat.

“What, you get to tease me but I cannot tease you? We still need to get my replacement up here, ye eager minx.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you warned.

“Or what?” he challenged with a devilish gleam in his eye. Oh, you were not going to shy away from _that_ challenge! You gave it some thought, turning your head around to confirm that you both were still alone as you hatched a plan.

“Do you think anyone will come up here to check on us?” you pondered out loud.

His wide shoulders lifted in a careless shrug and he inched his way closer to you, “Who knows. If someone does, could be soon... sooner. Or later. Bombur’s deep asleep now, I reckon. But I think it’s time we go wake ‘im, don’t you? Unless yeh’d rather… uh oh, what’s that look for?”

“As much as I’d love to let the world know of our little tussle,” you held him at arm’s length to take in his hot and bothered state with hungry eyes. “You are technically still on duty.”

He winked, “How about we fix that then?”

You caught a look of confusion on Bofur’s face as you slowly turned him around in response and led him to back to the ledge that oversaw the elf encampments and pressed snugly against him. He didn’t make a sound thus far, but you slid your hands tantalizingly down his front, loosening some of his garb on the way. He stiffened.

“Lass?”

“I never did tell you about that dream I had about you, did I?” you asked casually. Your hands stopped to take hold of his hips and your chin rested on his shoulder. The wind seemed more forgiving near the ledge and was a gentle caress; cool against your skin. Although he was facing forward, you caught sight of Bofur’s hot breath leaving him in heavy bursts at your every touch and finally he caught on to your intentions.

“You did not, ye naughty lil thing,” you could hear the smirk in his voice as he leaned into you. That wouldn’t do. You wanted him riled up. You wanted him to unleash his power on you when you were able to have each other all to yourselves.

“I still think about it, you know,” you admitted honestly.

Your hands dragged back up and gripped at the front of his chest and felt the barricading hardness of the protective plate that covered his pectorals, but from underneath you could feel his chest expanding and deflating as his breathing pulsed, pressing against the metalwork as it strained.

Bofur angled his head in your direction.

“Tell me,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“Should I?” you whispered next to his ear. While you leaned over him, you made sure that your chest deliberately lay flush against his shoulders.

He chuckled low.

“You really do enjoy teasin’. All right, tell me yers an’ I’ll tell ya mine. Deal?”

You raised an eyebrow and leaned closer to catch his expression. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Bofur reached out to rest one of his hands on the ledge and brought the other one to circle around the back of your head to your neck. He rubbed little circles that caused gooseflesh to raise on your arms.

“Let’s just say you aren’t the only one with tasteful fantasies.”

_“And the dreams I have…_ Mahal. _"_

Wait, were those dreams about _you_? Oh, man. He certainly seemed to imply it.

“I could tell you,” you started seductively, “but how about I show you instead?”

He whirled around before you could stop him and drew you into his arms. “I like yer thinkin’!”

You backed Bofur into the ledge, your hands cupping his face as your mouth slanted against his lips with renewed hunger and swallowed his grunt once his back absorbed the impact when you pinned him there. He welcomed you into him with eager arms and moaned approvingly in your mouth while you felt his hands travel up your sides before coming to rest on your waist and lower back, both of you still yearning for the feel of skin on skin instead of all these pesky layers of clothing and armor.

Your ragged breathing was loud in your ears amidst the haze of lust surrounding you that if anyone did happen venture up the stairs, they’d probably hear you before they saw anything. You meant to only tease him, but Bofur's tantalizing lips had such a drugging effect on you that you became instantly addicted.

“We’ll be wakin’ more than just Bombur if ye keep on like this…” he groaned in warning.

“Guess we’ll just have to be quiet then,” you whispered before giving him a quick lick. His whimper melted into a delicious growl.

“Y/N… I need to taste you,” he mumbled against your lips in between kisses. “Can I?”

You nodded, for how could you resist when he asked you so nicely?

Bofur gave an experimental lick along your bottom lip, and yours parted anticipating his entry, but he was taking his time acquainting himself with your plump, swollen bottom lip before taking it between his teeth in a gentle nibble. You felt your nipples harden at the sensation and you sighed into an arch, wanting to feel his teeth in other delicious places.

Pleased with the results that had given him, he built up a passionate open mouthed kiss that started out strong and slow but soon grew in urgency with each passing second for each erotic sound you made. Amidst the kiss, Bofur threw in little nips here and there, trying out varying pressures, sliding his tongue over your lip but not yet going inside. Somewhere along the way you both ended up on the ground with Bofur mounted above you and your legs hitched around his waist. The sound of sloppy kisses, gasps and little grunts of pleasure being exchanged resounded throughout the otherwise calm atmosphere.

It was still cold up there and the wind would still occasionally gust by but your body was on fire. Your skin was itching to be released from the confines of your clothing while a sheen of sweat broke out in the heat of your growing passion. Bofur, already pretty warm to begin with, must be hot as a furnace; beads of sweat were starting to form on his forehead intensifying his masculine scent that you could just drown in. He wiped at his forehead to stop himself from dripping on you.

Both of your lips molded over the other’s in a feverish tangle and he swallowed another moan of yours, taking that moment to finally slide his tongue inside and he hummed approvingly upon finally getting to taste you. Your met him greedily and you shuddered at his taste as a spark shot throughout your body, pooling your readiness for him between your legs. A growing need to be filled by what he had to offer you was forming and if you two weren’t making plans on leaving to a more secluded location then you could only hope no one bothered to check up on him anytime soon.

Gods, Bofur was very skilled with his tongue. It knew just where to go and what to do.

He toyed with your tongue a bit in a cat and mouse chase before dominating you completely and you surrendered willingly. While his tongue caressed yours, he uttered a soft moan and slid his hand up to your rib cage just shy of your right breast. You arched your back into his touch to offer yourself to him, silently pleading for his hand to move just a little further.

Your chest was pressed firmly against his and you pulled back a little to give him some room. From this position, your height difference was all but gone now from where he rested on top of you.

His body heat had enveloped you like a warm living blanket and you pressed nearer to him, wanting to take that warmth inside.

“Yer trembling… Still cold, my lady?” he quirked knowingly, moving his hands to clutch onto his scarf that had come undone during the makeout session. You could feel him grinding his hips into you and you eagerly grinded back, curious to catch evidence of his arousal.

Cold? Nope. The cold was long forgotten by now. True to his claim, Bofur was definitely capable of keeping you warm, and just by words alone.

You shook your head and eyed his lips encased in his loopy moustache, feeling a strange sensation to tug on it.

“Good, I do enjoy keepin’ ye warm,” he winked and dove in for more, dipping his body closer against yours. You steadied your hands on his shoulders and squeezed, moaning into his mouth as your tongues swirled together once more before he pulled away again.

“Mmm, the sounds you make, lass -- I quite enjoy that as well. Especially when it's my name yer sayin'."

Bofur gently cupped your jaw against his palm and tilted your face up and to the side, exposing your neck to him. He left a trail of tingling open mouthed kisses all along your throat and you began angling your head for him without his guidance to offer him the best access. Sensing it was causing a hindrance, you even pulled his scarf free and out of the way, trying to expose more of you to him.

He chuckled at your eagerness.

Your clavicle was now visible and you felt his tongue flick along the bone before he pressed a deep kiss there and soon after his lips ventured upward until you felt teeth latched onto the junction of where your neck met your shoulder. When he bit down, you mewled through the gentle pain, grabbing at Bofur anywhere you could to urge him on.

“Bofur…!”

“That’s it, just like that. I want to hear that lovely voice,” he praised.

“And wake everyone up?” you teased, turning to putty underneath his body.  

“Let them hear,” he exclaimed devilishly. He nuzzled your nose with his.

You smirked back at him.

Fine, if that’s how he wanted it, then any sounds to be heard were going to be coming from _him_ not just you. While Bofur busied himself in your neck again, planting numerous signs of affection against your open skin with the tickle of his ‘stache and beard, you crept your hand down between your bodies in search of what you wanted to feel.

You found his hardness almost instantly between the parting of his armor and tunic and gave it a lush stroke from your fingers to your palm. He grunted loudly and stilled; your movement stalled.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, suddenly feeling too forward.

His “uh-uh” was just a hum against your skin, but his ardent headshake was clearance enough for you to continue your ministrations, though now more tentatively.

“Keep goin’. Don’t stop touchin’ me,” he pleaded darkly, as if sensing your uncertainty. He crashed his lips onto yours in keen desperation and he thrust into your hand. “ _Mahal_ , don’t you stop.”

With a blush, you obeyed with renewed enthusiasm feeling him turn to to rock under your palm. The material he was wearing was so padded that you couldn’t feel him fully, but if you didn’t know any better, it definitely felt as if he had a giant rock in his trousers.

Man, he was wearing too many clothes. You could hardly get a proper feel of him. You’d have dipped your hand right down his trousers if it didn’t involve undoing his belt, his front armor piece, his overcoat, the ties on whatever else he had underneath, his trouser strings… yeah, all that had to come off.

“Mmm,” he groaned into your neck as your hand continued to work its sweet friction on him, his hips had begun thrusting back into your palm, relishing in the added pressure he needed from you. “Y/N…”

A hand traveled back up your ribcage, lingering underneath the cup of your breast, learning the shape of it with his thumb with visible restraint. His fingers twitched below the plump mounds, as if he wasn’t sure you would let him touch you there, even when you failed to spare him the same courtesy. A gentleman after all.

He whispered something very dark and erotic-sounding against your ear in a language you couldn’t decipher before he took the lobe between his teeth, giving it a chaste nibble. Then adjusted his position so that he was propped on his elbows and now both hands were lingering under your swells while he eyed them longingly. You could feel his fingers gripping underneath your breasts turning your nipples into hardened pebbles, teasing you.

“Bofur, touch me. Please!” You didn’t care that you had to beg.

His large hands roamed over the mounds, cupping and squeezing gently, leaning back to watch them grasped in his large hands then looking at your face as more approving sounds poured out of you.

“You are so lovely,” he whispered. Bofur licked his lips as he continued to massage and grope you there. You were breathless, panting heavily under his weight. Needing him.

The feel of Bofur mounted above you did something to a primal section in your brain. His expression caught on to the one appearing on your face in mutual agreement and he was all business in promptly getting to his feet and hoisting you up with him.

“No more waitin’. Let’s go.”

As he started off towards the stairs with you in tow, you pulled him flush against your chest and moved his hair over to kiss his neck. His hair was windswept and cool to the touch from the night air, but it felt so nice in your fingers, you couldn’t help but run them over his braids.

“Y/N,” he laughed. “Save some of that fer when we’re alone.”

Your reached your hand down to cup his erection again and he gasped, his next words becoming a struggle.

“I don’t fancy facin’ the lads with this hammer in my trousers.”

“Well, you said it yourself: I like to tease, and it’s just a treat feeling you squirm in my arms,” you giggled back. God, he smelled so good. Ooh, look, an open neck!

“Oh, just you wait. When I have you all to myself--” An animalistic growl exploded out of him causing his sentence to be cut short and his entire body to lunge forward. It was actually quite arousing to your ears to hear him speak in his secret native tongue, which was just as erotic as the sound he made. But nonetheless, your eyes widened with concern and you tore your mouth away from the hickey you left on his neck while your hands released his erection and slipped from where you had the other placed in his hair.

He was gripping a column so tightly the joints in his knuckles popped. His head dipped down between his arms as he ground out something else in his language, breathing in heavy, controlled breaths.

“I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?” you asked frantically. You eyed him carefully; measuring the situation but not entirely knowing what just happened or what exactly you did.

“I… I need a... minute,” he shivered in a way that you knew had nothing to do with the temperature outside.

Bofur gazed up at you in a sort of drunken stupor when he finally found it in him to turn around and slumped against the wall. 

“You okay?”

But he didn’t even get a chance to comment as the sound of scurrying feet emerged behind you and ended in a shriek. You whirled around in surprise, half shielding Bofur with your body.

“O-oh! Hello, Bofur. And Miss Y/N!” Bilbo’s flustered voice cracked while he scrambled his way up to where you were. You jumped and felt your cheeks flush again, praying he didn’t see anything that just happened as you hoped you didn’t appear to look too disheveled.

The hobbit stopped short when he noticed Bofur’s condition, “Is... everything all right?”

Your head snapped over to Bofur waiting for him to confirm, smoothing out your likely messed up hair as nonchalantly as you could.

“Oh, aye,” Bofur bit out. He hadn’t moved from his position, “Bilbo, would you mind wakin’ up Bombur for me? It’s his watch next.”

Bilbo’s narrowed eyes dashed between you both as he fiddled in place for a moment.

At first you worried that Bilbo connected the dots and knew what you did, but his demeanor insinuated that he was up to something entirely unrelated. As if _you_ had disturbed _his_ plans and he was caught red-handed at something. The hobbit eyed a link of chain anchored to the walls and the stairs he had just climbed and scratched his head in deliberation.

“I suppose I could… all right,” he answered in a quiet politeness.

Bofur smiled widely and hurried past the flustered hobbit, pausing to look over his shoulder at you, “Great! Lass, walk with me?”

“Uh, y-yes, of course.” Heart pounding, you meekly followed after the dwarf and nodded goodbye at Bilbo in passing.

“‘Night, Bilbo! Stay safe and take care!” Bofur called cheerfully before boldly taking your hand in his.

_Odd choice of words,_ you thought offhandedly.

If Bilbo noticed you were holding hands, he didn’t say anything, but he waved in response and Bofur led the way around the balcony to another set of stairs that you didn’t know existed, down a path you hadn’t ventured. You were still unsure of where his temperament was but as soon as you both descended down another set of stairs he stopped and turned to you. Your eyes met and he smiled impishly when you blushed pink.

You were finally alone.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” you asked in nervous excitement.

The weight of the situation finally settled upon your shoulders and although you were excited, it was still a shock to take in that you and Bofur were going to bed each other. Would there be complications afterward? Would it become awkward between you? Shit, what would happen after…? Now knowing who Bofur was to you, you didn’t want this to be just a one time thing. But you’d be happy to have Bofur in any way he’d let you, even if it was just this once. It didn’t stop the other thoughts from hurting any less, though.

He cradled your face in his large hands and, instinctively, you leaned your cheek into his touch, eyes boring into his. You brought your hands up to put over his gloves, eager to touch him despite your troubling thoughts.

“I wouldn’t fault ya for changin’ yer mind, Y/N. As much as I’d love you grantin’ my wish, I don’t want ya to feel forced or, y’know, _obligated_.”

You blinked, puzzled on why he would think otherwise and figured he must have noticed the look of worry you had on, “Why? I want to do this for you.”

He looked doubtful for a moment, even a little shy.

“Bofur, I know who my heart wants.”

Oh god, did you really just say that out loud?

Before you could catch yourself or take back your words, he smiled and pulled you in for another fierce, languid kiss that left you breathless and completely bereft of whatever it was you were thinking about. You whimpered against his hold, your toes curled in your boots and he held you steady as you leaned into him with weak legs that he had effectively turned to jelly.

He kissed you with absolute abandon. His soft, appreciative moans were the result of your natural response to him was only further fueling your growing desire. But then he slowed, fizzled down to a soft, sweet lip lock.

Bofur broke away with a hum of immense satisfaction while you were left swaying in his hold trying to catch your breath. He held onto you and you held onto him. Then he pulled away and smiled tenderly.

“Come with me,” he cooed.

Lighting an empty torch that was mounted on the hall off to the side, Bofur quickly marched off with your hand in his for a destination he deemed suitable for the deed. You didn’t recognize this section of the massive kingdom, but in the expanse of the hall, you could see the fire pit where everyone else was resting a good distance away.

The reverberating voices of those who were still awake were dulled down by the time they reached you, so you were quite far, but not entirely out of reach.

Bofur rounded one more corner and entered a vacant room. From the looks of it, it was once used as a dining area. Boy, was it cold. You couldn’t stop shivering and rubbing your arms to warm them. You took a look around to note your surroundings: The ceiling was still intact and there was rubble around and crumbled, rotted wooden seating areas with tables and other random abandoned debris. There were windows along the far wall, giving a great view of the clear night sky and the large moon. Not exactly your first choice, but it was far enough away and had a huge fireplace.

He let your hand go after giving it another quick kiss and spun around to take in the setting and nodded to himself before heading over to the large, empty fireplace in the center of the east wall.

Then he looked over his shoulder at you and turned his attention back to the fire once he was done talking, “Mind grabbin’ some wood for the fire, lass?”

In no time at all, the two of you got the fire roaring to life and he stoked it with a nearby prod before returning it to its place, then holstering the torch to the closest holster. He cleared the ash from his hands and peeled off his gloves to toss them aside. Next, he removed his top armor piece, then the overcoat, which he placed on the ground near the fire, then the gauntlets. He made a makeshift bed using only the softer parts of the attire he shed. After that Bofur grinned and held out his hand to you.

“Come here, Y/N. Let me warm ya back up.”

You stepped into his arms and nuzzled into him, soaking up his warmth and letting it quell your nerves. Dipping down to bury into his neck, you suddenly remembered Bofur’s odd response to what you did to him earlier. If it was a mistake, or if you hurt him, you didn’t want to sully the mood especially since you both had planned to continue without any further interruption.

“Bofur, did I offend you in some way?”

He tilted his head. “Hm? Offend?”

“On the terrace after I…” you awkwardly gestured to his neck. Which was already starting to bruise an ugly purple that you know will raise some questions if he chose not to wear his scarf. Oops?

“Oh, no,” he answered dismissively with a sharp laugh. “Grabbing a dwarrow’s hair is just very, ah, _intimate_ for us. Typically, it’s reserved for courting or married couples. Caught me off guard is all,” he explained huskily, bringing your left knuckles against his lips to warm them before exposing your palm and planting a kiss there. All the while maintaining eye contact. The tickle of his facial hair sent a shock up your arm and into your core, flooding you with heat again.

You gasped softly at the feel of your body awakening by his touch. Bofur slyly looked up at you beneath his lashes, “And tonight I only just learned my neck is quite a sensitive place to be bitten. I can still feel your mark on me, lass.”

You frowned, recalling how he yelped and slumped forward after you bit him.

“So I _did_ hurt you! Why didn’t you just tell me? Bofur, I’m so-- _oh. Dear. Gods_...”

Before you could finish kicking yourself in the ass for causing him discomfort, let alone finish that sentence, he wrenched your hand down to his groin and thrust his hips into your palm where you felt a very large, very hardened, dampened bulge throbbing in his trousers.

Liquid fire opened between your legs as you tried to picture what his member looked like based on what you were feeling. Gods, you felt him so clearly now. You could even shape out the head of his cock from beneath the fabric; it swelled and pulsed directly in your hand as if it had its own heartbeat.

Your eyes darted down to where your hand was placed and then back into his darkened stare. You were surprised that he was still so aroused even with the slight deterrent you both encountered.

“No more apologizin’ now. You’ve brought me nothin’ but pleasure. Although, I’m afraid you almost made me burst sooner than I was expectin’. I had to compose m’self. I still intend to see you come undone beneath my hands before I let go completely and I’m very anxious for ya to show me more of that dream ye had.”

Oh. Well, then.

Bofur released you and rubbed his hands together with giddy delight, “Now, where were we?”

He looked at you with masculine expectation and you realized then _juuust_ where you were headed. And you were gonna get right down to it. Okay. Yeah. You could do this. You could!

“I think we were here…” you drawled, your hands resting on his belt buckle.

“Mm, indeed. Have at it, my lady.” As soon as his mouth was on yours again everything else slipped away until it was just the two of you together in the room in front of the blazing fire while you undressed him piece by piece.

Most of his clothes could be pushed or shrugged off of his shoulders, so your lips broke apart only when you had to lift his tunic over his head. His neck was exposed for a moment and you caught sight of the mark you left on him before his pigtails bounced back on his shoulders after the garment was off.  

He regarded you nervously and chest expanded as he took in a heaving breath.

You blushed and gulped, taking in the sight of his very male, dwarven bare upper half for the first time. Bofur’s broad shoulders, arms, and torso were well-sculpted with obvious upper body strength from working in the mines and fighting with his kin during the journey. His muscles were much more pronounced than any human man’s you’ve seen, due to the biologically stocky anatomy of his dwarven heritage. From the light of the fire, his skin was kissed with flickering gold rays and he was just as radiant.

Overcome with an irresistible urge to finally touch him you brought your hands up to explore and looked to Bofur for permission.

“By all means,” he smiled with arms wide open.

Bofur’s skin was hot and smooth gliding under your hands. His brown eyes rolled up and drifted closed, enjoying the feel of your touch. Even though Bofur was shorter than you, it was funny how small your limbs were in comparison to his body.

His chest and arm muscles were cut like marble and were leaner than the Durin’s, but that was because his build was different from theirs; if he had any more muscles he’d have looked disproportionate. There was a splash of short dark hair dusted over his pectorals and collar bone with a smooth, hairless gap between his pecs and just before his navel before hair started up again leading down a thin line along his stomach that gradually expanded into a wider patch as it disappeared into his trousers. The same short dark hair was also found on his forearms.

Those arms… they were quite nice.

Bofur didn’t have much core muscle in his stomach area. He was sporting a modestly rounded gut as evidence that he tended to favor ale as his drink of choice, but it wasn’t a turn-off to you. If anything, it endeared you even more to him and was proof of what made him so huggable. Nothing could take away the fact that you were wildly attracted to him in both body and soul.

Bofur’s eyes opened when your hands traveled lower and he gave you a warm, understanding look as you eyed and touched him in appreciative silence, watching you bring up your hands to run paths over the hot skin of his shoulders, then down into his coarse chest hair. His body tingled under your touch and he let out quiet gasps and breaths, arching his body into your ministrations. Your thumbs circled the small discs of his nipples as they puckered under your touch. His heart was pounding wildly beneath your palm and you couldn’t resist leaning in to place a quick kiss there.

Now your hands lowered over his stomach, then cupped his sides during their exploration back up and his hands intertwined with yours.

“Enjoyin’ the view?” he winked, then under his breath, “I know I need to lay off the drinkin’.”

Your eyes flicked to his and he avoided your stare with a nervous smile. He awkwardly tugged on his hat flap and swayed on his heels. Wait, didn’t he just take that thing off? Why the hell was he still wearing his hat? Must be a security blanket of sorts.

“No, you’re perfect… you really do have strong, studly dwarven arms,” you squeezed the taut muscles there. “You’re so… god, you’re _really_ handsome. You should go topless more often.”

Well, if that wasn’t apple pie to his self-esteem! He perked right up like a proud peacock, a huge grin growing on his lips that gave way to a toothy smile. You found it adorable that he actually cared what you thought of him.

“Oooh, am I now? Better than your dream?” he wagged his eyebrows at you and leaned his face closer to yours, his arms circling your waist. You kissed his nose then his lips. Ugh, you could kiss him all day long and it still wouldn't ever be enough.

“Much better. Because it’s you and we’re really doing this together.”

Bofur paused and took a quick breath.

“You should know that when dwarrows get fully intimate, they can become quite... possessive and dominant. Last thing I mean to do is cause ye harm so if I get too rough, I want you to tell me when to stop. Even if ya gotta fling me off of ye to do it, understand?”

In other words, he was telling you to buckle up buttercup, because you were about to go on a wild ride. And you weren’t going to come off until he was done.

“I’ll take my chances. Anything else I need to know before we get started?”

He seemed to consider something but he shut his mouth and shook his head. “No... But there’s somethin’ I need.”

“What’s that?”

“Do I have your permission touch you?”

Going by his tone, you knew exactly what type of touching he was alluding to. You could do this!

“Yes.”

“Everywhere I want?”

“ _Any_ where. You won’t hear any complaints from me, I promise you that.”

His eyes roamed your figure and he “discreetly” adjusted the bulge jutting through his trousers and took a step back. “Yer certain.”

“I want you. I want to fulfill your wish.”

He lifted his dark eyes to yours and nodded once as if you both struck an accord and formed a silent contract.  

“Undress,” he commanded in the sort of voice you’d only ever hear coming from Thorin.

“But where to start?” you teased and posed.

His brown eyes glimmered and pointed at your cloak while he kicked off his boots and socks.

You removed his scarf first before undoing the tie of your cloak in one tug. You shrugged it off of your shoulders and slipped it and the scarf into Bofur’s waiting arms and he added them to the pile of clothing by the fire. The warmth of the flames kept the cold of the room from encasing you, but your growing arousal made sure to keep the chill at bay.

“Top next, then yer boots,” his gruff voice had gone deeper.  

Each element of clothing removed was added to the makeshift bedding pile until you were left in your underclothes. Even though you were growing nervous, you started to make a show of undressing for him but Bofur stopped you and gestured you to come forward; he wanted to take those off himself.

Bofur undressing you seemed more intimate somehow than you thought it would be; he took such care in every move. Even his eyes were burning with avid sexual intensity that you've never seen directed towards you from past lovers. His large hands and thick fingers worked swiftly and efficiently, undoing the ties with ease until your undershirt fell open to reveal the top of your breasts. His palms dipped down to the hem and slowly lifted the top over your head. His fingers deliberately trailed up your skin during the ascent.  

Bofur was right at eye level with your naked breasts and your nipples perked instantly from catching the chill in the air.

“Lovely. Yer so soft…” he admired with a gentle smile.

His fingers traced the contours of your face, resting his right palm against your cheek while the other brushed lightly down your neck marking a path down between your breasts. Your skin rose in tingling prickles before his palm encompassed a mound. Having his hands on you was quite electrifying and your breath hitched before letting out a feminine sigh of pleasure.

He absorbed in each sound as if they fueled his every movement. And then he gave a squeeze.

Your back arched, feeling like a dam broke between your legs. He rolled the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then palmed the neglected breast with his other hand to knead them at the same time. And then they were in his mouth; together, one at a time, his tongue stroking and flattening over the puckered flesh. His lips were gentle but firm when he took them. You rested your shaking hands on his shoulders and tilted your head back and had to rub your thighs together to appease the building need for friction.

He inhales a trembling breath and his hands travel lower. And the lower he goes, the more vocal you get. He works at the strings on your long underpants and with a decisive tug they’re freed, falling off of you on their own. You kicked them off of your feet and he stepped back, keeping his fingers grazing along the plush of your hips.

“Let your hair down,” he whispered.

You reached up and paused, recalling how intimate hair was for dwarves. You wanted to share that form of intimacy with him and the trust that came with that sort of symbolism in his culture.

“I want you to do it,” you said. Bofur gave you a look of surprise and it melted into a heartwarming smile, as if you had bestowed on him the greatest of honors. And he requested the very same thing of you.

He slipped his hands up into your hair, and yours began to undo his braids with care. He hummed happily from your touch. When you were finished, he gave you a chaste kiss and let your hair fall free before stepping back again.

“Oh, bless me…” he breathed in awe. His eyes were like a physical presence as they traveled up and down your body, lingering in some areas, lingering longer in others. He was drinking you in with such reverence and want that you had to look away from his stare. Geez, it was like he’d never seen a woman’s body before. Oh, wait… Right, you remembered what he said about there being only woman he fooled around with and you couldn’t help but wonder... How much had he seen? How far had he gone? Did he think she was prettier than you?

With a pang of unexpected jealousy, you couldn’t help but wonder where you resided on the scale; suddenly caring what _he_ thought of _you_.

“You are absolutely… by Durin, I don’t even have the words.”

Now feeling very shy of being so exposed to his still half-naked state, you covered yourself and denied his wandering eyes.

“Y/N,” he chuckled softly.

You didn’t lift your head, only held onto yourself tighter and flushed nervously, not knowing why you were so unsure all of a sudden. Was it because this was the first time you were going to sleep with a friend? Was it because you suddenly only realized that night that you loved him and believed he was your soulmate? Or were you concerned with how awkward tomorrow might be? Maybe you were worried you’d disappoint him, that he didn’t like women who weren’t covered in more hair. You didn’t know. But you felt exposed and raw in a way that no one ever made you feel before all the while you had no idea what he was thinking. And for god sakes why’d he have to laugh!?

He called your name again and this time you dared to look him in the eye seeing nothing but honest concern and affection there.

“Don’t tell me yer embarrassed, lass? Yer a right _goddess_ and I feel like a toad compared to you!”

You couldn’t hold back the laughter at that odd comparison coupled with the very “Bofur” way that he said it. Naturally, he would know what to say to lighten the mood and you were grateful for it.  

“You are not, you goof. And take that off.” You cocked your chin towards his hat. So accustomed to having it on, he almost didn’t know what you were talking about, but then he snickered and you were surprised when he actually did fling his silly hat away.

Bofur wrapped his arms around you and brought you close until you were skin on skin. “And you,” he purred, “are the most gorgeous maid I ever laid my eyes on.” He grabbed your hair from the back of your head and tilted you closer to his face, “And now you’re _mine_.”

The dam broke again. This kiss was different. You didn’t understand how, but it was. Something wordless was being exchanged between you. Something powerful and of meaning you couldn't hope to comprehend with speech as you awaited what was to come.

“Y/N,” he whispers, his hands still wound in your hair massaging your scalp. “Y/N, I can’t stop kissin’ you.”

You could barely get the words out, “Don’t stop.”

But he did. He tore his mouth away, pulling your bottom lip in his teeth before letting it go, too. Momentarily dazed like drunks, you both shared a giggle.

“I’d like to kiss you… here.” He used his eyes to indicate just where he was referring; the juncture right between your legs.

Your face heated and your skin rippled, “Okay.”

Bofur started his journey at your lips. Taking his time, kissing you slowly and attentively. Sliding his tongue inside.

God, he knew just what to do to get you going, and he responded in earnest. He tugged you down and laid you on the clothing and trapped your body under his arms which rested beside your shoulders and peppered your face with his affections, whispering how perfect you were and how much he loved your softness, then moved downwards to your neck, each of your breasts, your stomach, your hips.

Finally, he had descended down your body and came to a stop at your thighs and you felt his rough hands glide over the soft surface of your skin. You hesitated when he tried to spread them apart.

“No, Y/N. Let me see you.”

You reluctantly allowed him to gently nudge your knees apart and then you were spread bare, glistening before him. At first he leaned back and rested his weight on his legs to take the sight of you in. After a beat he leaned to hover his face for closer inspection on your most secret area, shuddered, and rested his head temporarily on your stomach. He adjusted himself in his trousers with a free hand while a groan escaped.

“Yer scent, it--it’s doing something to me, lass. I wanted to go slowly, but... Blessed Mahal.” He reached out and stroked you with his fingertips wonderingly.

You squirmed, already much too sensitive there and awaiting for him to do _something_ ; an orgasm was just around the corner. A hunger brewed behind Bofur’s dark eyes that channeled down to the massive tent straining in his pants. You wanted to feel it against you. Inside of you.

Bofur lowered himself down onto his elbows and gently urged your closing legs apart. No one had ever looked at you like that down there with so much attention, and you were starting to feel a bit self-conscious until he spoke with dwindling restraint.

Voice rasping low, “Beautiful… you are so beautiful like this, Y/N. I’m dyin’ for a taste, I… I can’t wait anymore.”

And then he brought up both of his thumbs and parted your flesh.

The moment his mouth made contact, your whole body jerked as if you’ve been shocked. It sure felt like it, given the orgasmic sensation in your sensitive bundle of nerves he was so dangerously close to. He didn’t stop. Bofur’s tongue dragged up between your folds, retracted slightly, then delved back in deeper than before as he Frenched you in your most intimate place with guttural, obvious sounds of enjoyment that had your hips undulating involuntarily against his mouth. He kissed you there almost the same way as he did your lips, but down here he wasn’t just tasting you. He was _devouring_ you.

“Oh, god, Bofur! I’m--” You quiver, a harsh pant gives way to a throaty moan. All sense of shame and self-consciousness gone.

Bofur took up a pattern, repeated it, made up a new one, slanted and swirled his mouth and tongue, gripped your thighs, slid his hands under to squeeze the soft, malleable flesh of your ass; he was growling into your flesh, the vibration causing you to shake and tremble in ecstasy while melting into the ground. He ended his feasting with a quick flick at your engorged clit; just enough to make you writhe and cry out a high pitched moan. He nuzzled closer and you were loving the contrasting combination of his facial hair and lips on you. _You were so close_.

Then his mouth was gone.

With a whimper, your hands shot out and delved into his hair and tugged, wordlessly urging him to keep going. He tensed when you grabbed him but then he smirked after giving you another lick.

“Is this what I did to you in yer dream?”

“W-what?” you asked dazed.

Oh, right. The dream. It was kinda hard to focus on that with Bofur’s face between your legs, dangling you helplessly on the verge of satisfaction. If it weren’t for the incredibly sexy tone of his voice, your release would be just out of reach and fading away.

“Because this is exactly what I did to ya in mine. And lass, you taste better than anythin' I could've ever imagined. I wonder if I can get ya to come with just this?” He gave you another lick, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

Another moan escaped. “Less talking, more… _mouth_.”

“Now, Y/N, you said yerself anticipation heightens the pleasure.” He nips playfully at the inside of your thigh. Then the other one. Licking you everywhere but where you needed him most.

“Bofurrr!” you whine longingly.

Your hands grabbed at his hair and tugged him again. You were trembling, trying to hold on to the fading sense of relief you were desperate for him to grant you.

Bofur sighs in defeat, “Yer lucky I’m not keen to teasin’ like you are, lass.”

To your delight he settled his face back in, but you didn’t dare let go of him.

“Luckier still that you are just too delicious to resist,” he added low and dark.  

Fuck, you didn’t know how much longer you would last. Bofur brought you right back to where you needed to be with that magic tongue of his like he never left.

He sucked your clit in and twirled his tongue around it. Instantly, you cried out and wettened for him, loosening with a sweet pressure building in your stomach. Bofur lapped you up like he lived off the stuff, picking up the pace while he tuned in on your breathing to discern which garnered the best reaction. You guided him in breathless feminine squeaks whenever you wanted him to go harder or faster. Something was missing though. There was something you needed to tilt you over the edge but in the fog of it all you couldn’t put it into words.

"B-Bofur, I-I need... I need..." Your hips ground into his tongue.

His now black eyes glittered up at you with the intensity of a predatory animal, holding your stare. His shoulder muscles rolled and bulged while he grabbed at you. He tore his mouth away with a grunt -- gods, the sight of his moustache and chin… they were absolutely _soaked_ \-- and eased a finger into you.

_Yes!_ **_This_** _!_

Bofur smiled triumphantly and watched you undulate like a wave in front of him.

Your back arched up off the ground and you shouted out his name at the sudden invasion you desperately craved. He used his free hand to hold you in place and you anchored him right where he was by nestling your thigh over his shoulder and curling him in. His back was slicked with a thin sheen of sweat which glittered in the flickering light of the fire beside you.

He added another thick digit, then a third and curled upward, waited for you to adjust, and started pumping. You could feel his hot breath on you while he spoke.

“Like this?”

“ _Yes_!” your voice was shaking and thick. “Yes! Don’t stop, Bofur! I’m so--ah, harder!”

“Look at me, lass. Yer close, aren’t ye? I can feel you… yer so wet; so tight. Look at me. I need to see yer eyes when you come undone.”

Your head was tipped far back and it was a struggle to lift it to meet him. His mouth attacked you in tandem with his hand the moment your eyes locked. You bit your lip, stifling a scream at the overwhelming sensations of his wicked mouth and talented hand playing you like a fine instrument.

“That’s it, lass! Let go for me.”

Heat built in your stomach burning hotter and hotter, rivaling that of the fireplace. The pressure collected at your sensitive clit like a fuse on a ticking bomb. Your hips rode his face on their own accord, and your mouth opened in a wordless scream -- you were right on the threshold of exploding and Bofur wasn’t relenting. He found the pace you needed and remained steady. His name was a sinful chant and praise upon your lips that grew more and more unabashed as he neared you to your release.

Your hips bucked as white appeared in your vision and you finally, _finally_ came apart in a glorious blast, shooting through the expanse of Erebor and up into the heavens all at once, not caring if anyone heard.

Bofur’s mouth softened and his fingers slowed, working you lazily through the aftershock. Doing so only drew out another fleeting, unexpected orgasm, and then you were lying there limp. Half-panting, tingling from head to toe.

“Bofur,” you breathed, sightlessly lifting a clumsy hand into his hair but it fell short and flopped back down to your side. He met you with a smug laugh and after wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he went to you. Bofur settled above your face and braced himself on his knees and elbows over your spent body.  

“Well, hel-lo there!” he greeted cheerfully.

You laughed weakly. “Hi.”

Bofur nuzzled his nose with yours. “Hi,” he murmured softly.

You eyed his drooping moustache which no longer held any remnant of its former curl. With a shy lip bite, you found strength enough to lift your hand and thumbed the slick hair through your fingers and blushed when your release dripped off of it.

He used his thumb to wipe it free from your skin.

“Sooo, I take it my first go was a success?”

Your eyes widened in disbelief, “That was the first time you ever...?”

He nodded, looking quite pleased with himself, and you puckered your lips for a kiss that he was much too happy to oblige. He gave you a short one but you wrapped your legs around him to draw him closer. Bofur rocked against you slowly and you felt his desire for you grinding into your stomach when you realized something was amiss.

“Coulda fooled me. That was… _my god_ , Bofur, that was something else.”

“Yer somethin’ else, love,” his next kiss was as soft and sweet as his words. “Truly. I was worried it wouldn’t be good for ya; had no idea what I was doin', so I just enjoyed m'self. Yer right exquisite, you are.”

Your heart thumped at the pet name but you swallowed it down. Bofur’s eyes were aglow with pride. No doubt his jaw had to have been sore from working you so long and so thoroughly. You wanted to return the favor. “Well, mission accomplished there. There’s just one thing that could've been a little different…”

Bofur shot you a worried look.

“I’m very naked, and you are not. Take these off and I’ll show you what else I did in my dream.” For emphasis, you tugged at the sides of his trousers.   

You didn’t need to tell him twice.

Wide eyed with excitement, he rose to his knees and fumbled with the strings of his trousers and all but fell back on his ass trying to get them off. You giggled at his clumsiness, despite him blushing.

You crawled over to him and reversed your positions so you were on top.

“A little over eager, are we?” you smirked.

He gave you an impish grin and wiggled the hand he used to pleasure you. “Aye. Care to help? Somethin' keeps causin' my fingers to slip.”

You laughed and assisted him in undoing and tugging down his trousers and finally his length sprang out in the open jutting out large and proud.

Whoa. He was… much thicker than you anticipated. His length was perfect, but good gods the girth. Yeah, you could do this. Mhm. Yup, you could. Okay. Oh boy…

Yeah, you eyed him shamelessly and blushed when you felt him pulse when you stroked him.

“On your back,” you ordered, stroking him once more.

He did as was told and you left a chaste kiss on his lips and reenacted the same journey across his body that he did with yours. Bofur’s breathing was loud in your ears. His entire body was tense and moistened by his thin layer of sweat making him sweet and salty on your tongue. You kissed down his happy trail and felt his hands brush your hair out of your face when it caught on his skin and then you nuzzled your nose into the surprisingly well-kept dark curls surrounding his manhood. Keeping your eyes on him, you dragged your tongue up the prominent vein of his throbbing shaft and you wettened all over again at the sound he made.

His eyes were focused intently on you and he licked his lips in anticipation, an innocent look of desperation in his eyes and you decided not to tease him any further.

Bofur moaned when you took him into your mouth, the low rumble came loud from his chest and then he inhaled with a hiss. His eyes clamped shut and his head pitched back, arm muscles bulging as they shot out to grip the clothing below him. He opened his eyes and turned his head to an angle so that he could continue watching you.

“Y/N, love.” He was breathing in a hard, ragged pattern, his wide chest rising and falling with each breath. From under your lips you could feel his body heat rise even higher as it concentrated and centered at the length you were sucking on. “ _More_.”

Oh, he wanted more? You’ll give him more.

Readjusting your position so that your heat was pressed against his leg, your other hand cupped the heavy twin weights below in a gentle massage before you hollowed out your cheeks and you took him back to the end of your throat. You started grinding on him so you could build stimulation for yourself to prepare for taking him inside. Bofur whimpered your name and his hips bucked, pushing him farther in. You stopped massaging to bring up your hand to grip him at the base and allowed some saliva to drip down in order to slide your hand in perfect motion with your mouth. You moved your hips in sync with your mouth, visualizing his cock filling you in your dripping heat instead of your mouth. You wanted to mimic how it would feel for him when he was finally inside you and he was positively reeling from all the things you were doing to him. His moans grew high in octave, and his hips pulsed in short bursts to meet your bobbing rhythm.

You tasted his leaking excitement thick on your tongue and you swirled it around the head, moaning deliberately on him from tip to base.

“Dear, Mahal!” he grunted when your wetness broke and slid a trail down his leg.

You felt him harden to stone in your mouth and he hissed, grabbing your face to pull you away.

“Stop, stop,” he panted and gripped his base tightly. The tip of his cock was a deep red and dripping from your mouth and more of his own excitement; he was staving off his release with shaking arms and uneven breaths and was a delicious mess in his bothered state.

You eyed his cock hungrily, bringing round a hand to ease into yourself as you imagined what more pleasures awaited you. And when you looked up into his eyes you watched as something snapped in him, turning Bofur from dwarf to beast.  

With strength and speed you didn't know he had, he roughly shoved you onto your back and poised over you. Your legs widened in welcome to accommodate his weight and he dipped his hips down to yours where you felt him hot and heavy against your slick, aching folds.

"Mine," you thought you heard him say, but his lips were on yours before you could think too much on it. Bofur no doubt tasted himself in your mouth and you could taste the remaining flavor of yourself on him. He kissed his way down your jaw and with his face nuzzled into your neck, you felt his teeth grazing against your skin before he abruptly bit down and suckled on your throat in the same spot as you did on him.

His name escapes you in a pleasurable shudder when he began to suck harder, moving to other places on your throat with the same enthusiasm.

You barely felt his hand slip between you where he guided himself to your waiting entrance.

He pushed his tip inside and then went an inch further. Despite being properly warmed up for him, your body was still not prepared for his size. He was the perfect length but gods, why was he so _thick_?

Bofur's lustfilled eyes attentively watched your face. Searching for any hint of pain or discomfort. You could tell he felt the resistance and was waiting for your body to adjust before he went any further. Your gaze drifted between you to see where you were being joined. He still had a ways to go before he was entirely sheathed inside of you and your cunt quivered in anticipation for when it was finally ready to accept him all the way.

Bofur's eyes flared when he felt your body embrace him and he growled, trying to control himself from pounding into you like an animal.

"Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

"No, keep going. Just go slow."

He nodded and cupped your face for a quick kiss and adjusted his arms for the best vantage point and began to rock his hips, imperceptibly at first. Gradually coating your wetness on him to slicken the glide.

His face contorted into raw pleasure the deeper he went.

As soon as he slipped inside straight to the hilt, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open in a silent gasp before air exploded out of his lungs. It was such a stunning sight to see him overcome by pleasure you were giving him and you mewled at the feel of the delicious pressure and stretching he offered you. He stayed put for a moment, his cock pulsing and throbbing inside your molten embrace.

Bofur made the first thrust. Pulling out almost all the way and then slamming back. His face melted into sheer ecstasy. You were right there with him. If kissing him wasn’t the best thing ever, _this_ just felt like home. This is right where you needed to be.

"Oh... my..." The rest was a foreign groan to your ears. He thrusted out and back in again -- harder -- and your body jolted upward from the power of it. He did it again. And again.

"Y/N. Y/N, oh sweet Mahal, you... you feel..."

He growled low and began thrusting again, deep and slow, then picking up speed. Thankfully your body had well adjusted to him by this point and every glide, push and pull, had you panting and grunting for more.

"Ah! Bofur, faster!"

"By Durin, you're so _tight._  I don't want to hurt ya but I... can't... stop!"

His hips swung freely now, head dipping back and then forward. He was going fast. Really, really fast and he focused on your breasts bouncing in tandem with his every thrust before his mouth covered one for a greedy kiss. He kissed and suckled the other and sat back up. Bofur’s dark, dampened hair covered his face and you reached up to push it out of the way so you could see him. He looked amazing like this. So masculine and powerful.

"Grab me. Tug it tight," he said through clenched teeth. You gripped his hair as asked and the rest was a pleasurable blur. The sounds he was making were almost primal. Deep growls and savage kisses rained down in a clash of tongue and teeth upon your mouth.

The wet slapping sound of skin on skin spurred you both on and you peeked down to watch where you were being joined with immense satisfaction.

Bofur wound his arms around your back and tilted your hips up and the pounding grew harder and fierce. Fuck, he wasn't kidding about the possessive dominance thing... You became trapped under his body in a passionate, protective hold, with his face buried into your hair breathing in your scent. The only thing he allowed you to do was wrap your legs around him as your own hips rose to meet him as best they could while he took you and you accepted everything he gave.

Bofur’s breath was hot on your skin and you felt him biting, licking and kissing along your neck before he moved to look in your eyes, still keeping you locked in his hold. 

His name escaped you in a deep gasp.

He leaned his forehead down to yours and was groaned quietly. But then you realized he was repeating something over and over. You heard your name, but something else after it. You were too far gone to linger on it as you felt an orgasm building faster than you were prepared for.

"Fuck, Bofur, yes! Just like this," you screamed. "Keep going, don’t stop!"

He moaned loudly and said that beautiful-sounding phrase again.

"Y-Y/N, I'm--I'm close, love. _So_ close," he growled, his hips stuttering against yours. You could feel him hardening even more. Turning to solid stone, getting ready to burst as he slams faster and faster to home. He focused his tip on that specific place inside you, grounding in quick, short slaps.

Both of your cries are increasing in pitch as you near your climaxes. Bofur gives you everything you ask for until you're buckling underneath him, clamping down on his thick cock as the sweet relief of your orgasm overtakes you until all you see are stars. But that was only the beginning. You could feel an even more powerful one just around the bend waiting for you.

His name is a weighty scream from your lips that bounces throughout the halls. Bofur meets your eyes to watch and as his pupils blow he omits a cry and in lightning speed yanks himself out.

"I need to pull out or I'll--"

"No! Finish inside of me!"

He all but snarls and positions himself but then his head heavily slumped into your chest and his hair fanned out over your skin as he hesitates.

It seems like he wanted to say something, and when he lifted his head you couldn't help the words, you needed him to finish, because as soon as he did, you knew his wish would at last be fulfilled, "Come with me, my darling dwarf. Make me yours."

His brows furrowed in concentration but he nodded, leaned down you press a kiss to your lips and you felt his damp hands link together with yours as he whispered for you to hold on to him and in a single thrust he stretched you to your capacity again. He was not gentle about it. You could feel how close he was, the literal burning desperation in every thrust worked through him as he wildly chased after his release, and all the while he kissed you so sweetly; a polar opposite to the claiming he imposed. You were going to be sore, and probably wouldn't be able to walk properly, but you didn’t care.

You were very close, yourself, and with as much might as you could muster, you clenched tightly around him and he started moaning in little spurts into your mouth; growing louder, deeper, until he pumped a final time straight to the hilt, head dipped back into a loud roar with you following behind him. Liquid hot spurts jetted inside of you, filling you until you were full and leaking with a mix of both of your juices. The sensation of it all only spurred on another orgasm that had Bofur shuddering and gasping hard for breath from over stimulation. His hips were slowing, but he still surged as he came down from his high.

You were holding tightly onto him riding out your own wave of pleasure before your limbs loosened and dropped lifeless by your sides once it passed. You were numb all over, only hyper aware of how fast and hard your heartbeat was. You were up drifting somewhere in the clouds. At peace. Utterly satisfied. You were only faintly aware of a voice calling your name.  

"Y/N! Y/N, love?" Bofur was still wrapped around you, his softening length still inside as he observed you with concern. "Y/N…?"

"Mm?" you responded faintly. Mouth falling open to catch your breath.

"Are you hurt?" he asked worriedly, shifting a little but still remaining inside. “Was I too rough? Are you in pain--by my beard, yer wee neck!” He reached out to gingerly touch all the places he bit you in utter horror.

“No, no. I’m totally fine. That was… that was…” you smiled goofily, unable to get the words out but hoping by the airhead look on your face he’d get the message.

Relieved, he laughed through his nose and pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead and then he slumped against you spent. Both of you gasped when he slipped himself out, but he quickly tucked you into his arms and you held each other while you came down from the stars. God, your heart was swollen with him. Filled to the brim of everything you shared. You wouldn’t be the same after this, and you knew for certain he wouldn’t, either.

“Aye, it was,” he replied dreamily.

“So, how do you feel?” you drawled, kissing his chest. His heart was still hammering away, but it was calming down.

“Relaxed, peaceful… and different.”

Well, he sounded different and you turned your face to look at him and saw that his eyes were closed and he had a calm, content smile.

“Different how?” You twirled his moustache, trying to get it back into its usual curl.

He peeked an eye open, “Considerin’ how I just got the life shagged out of me by such a fair maiden, I reckon I’ll _never_ be the same. I haven't known such bliss before; that I could feel so... complete." He paused then, "I… thank you, Y/N. Thank you fer this.”

You laid there listening to silence. A horrible, crushing silence that brought on the realization that it was over. You had fulfilled his wish.

_I love you… I love you, you sweet dwarf._

“You deserve some thanks as well,” you replied with a forced smile. “I don’t think I can ever make love again after what we just did.” Because nobody would ever be able to compare to what you shared with Bofur. Hell, nobody could _compare_ to Bofur in your eyes.

After an even longer pause, he hummed faintly in response and started stroking your hair, becoming uncharacteristically quiet.

You started replaying everything you did trying to commit as much of it as possible to memory. His touch, his lips, how he looked when he took you, the sounds when he came apart, all the sweet nothings he said--

“Hey, Bofur, what was that phrase you kept saying after my name? It was really pretty.”

His hand stilled.

“Uh…”

He didn’t say anything further. You knew that it wasn't anything derogatory based on the manner in which he said it, but it meant _some_ thing in the heat of the moment. And now he probably regretted saying it and didn’t want to tell you and further complicate things. Ugh, great. That’s what you get for sleeping with a friend. God, did you really just do that?

In the time it took you to feel very stupid, you quickly extracted yourself from him, sat up and sighed deeply, brushing a hand over your face as reality grew into focus forcing you to let this dream go -- to let him go. Bofur scrambled up beside you and gently touched your arm.

“What’s wrong? Do you... have regrets?”

Yeah, how about the exact opposite? As ridiculous as it was, you’d gladly take him again and again. You shook your head quickly, “No, it’s not that. I’ve just never been with a friend in this way before.”

_Especially one who I’ve fallen in love with and who obviously doesn’t feel the same way._

He relaxed a little at that and it was like another stab in the chest. “Neither have I,” he admitted with a kind smile.

You suddenly remembered that Bofur had never gone all the way before. With anybody. Ever. If either of you needed consoling or reassurance it was him, not you. To be someone’s first was something that should be saved for someone special, not with a friend in a life or death situation. Gods, what have you done? What were you thinking?!

“Oh, Bofur… you should’ve done this with someone special! Your first time, I ruined it!” you lamented into your hands as you groaned at your selfishness.

You felt his finger tilt your chin to look at him with nothing but pure fondness in his eyes.

“Oh, you silly, pretty little thing. I _have_ done this with someone special! You haven’t any idea how much ye mean to me, do you? Being with you like this is worth more to me than all the treasure in this mountain. And if I’m to be completely honest, I’ve never wanted anyone more than I have wanted you, love.”

Ugh, you wished he would stop with the pet name. You couldn’t bear the bedroom talk anymore and yet it was all you yearned to hear. And there goes that word again. _Want_. What was that even supposed to mean?

He seemed to register the words he just said in combination with your confounded expression and he gave a sheepish grin and scratched the back of his lovingly tousled bedhead. Then he swallowed, took a deep breath, and threw you a very serious look; similar to the one he wore on the terrace before he divulged what was troubling him.

He was about to tell you something important. Something that he probably didn’t want to say. Something that was probably going to break your heart. With a gulp, you braced yourself.  

“Do ya want to know what is was I said?”

“Yes. No. Uh, I don’t know if I want to know, actually, so we can pretend I never asked.”

He sighed and smiled sadly, “Well, I’m goin’ to tell ya anyway.”

“No, no! I think I’m fine. I’ll find the will to live on without knowing what…” You struggled to repeat what it was he said.

Bofur chuckled and tucked a fallen strand of hair behind your ear, “Amrâlimê. It means ‘love of mine’ in my native tongue.”

Your heart lurched and you laughed nervously, “O-oh… oh. Okay... But you didn’t mean it, did you? Right? Just a heat of the moment type of thing?”

His eyes dropped and he shook his head. “No. Quite the opposite, really.”

You blushed, your heart fluttering with soul crushing hope. “Bofur, what are you saying?”

Little would have prepared you for what followed. And all you could feel was your heart bursting at the seams as you fought the urge to cry.

“Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag, eh? Mahal, I hope I’m not shoving my foot in my mouth by sayin’ this right after we…” He took another breath and started again, “I’m goin’ to be honest with ya. I’ve been plannin’ on the best way to ask you to court me for quite some time when I realized you were my One. I wanted to do it after we reclaimed our home. I wanted to do right by ya and craft you a worthy courting gift to show my intentions were serious, but I... had my doubts on my chances of survival, as you know, until you set me straight. But Y/N when you kissed me, everything in the world suddenly made sense and now all I want to do is fight for ya -- for life. Your lips on mine feels like Gandalf’s fireworks exploding everywhere inside of me unlike anythin’ I ever felt--”

“It made me feel alive,” you admitted at the same time.

Your eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

“So, you felt it, too?” you both said in unison again, giggling at the synchronization.

“Would ye look at that!” Bofur grinned widely, before bursting into laughter when you tackled him into a hug that knocked him flat on his back. Tears of happiness and relief ran freely down your cheeks and you did your best to hide them by cuddling into the crook of Bofur’s neck and draped your legs across him just like you did many months ago, holding him tight.

“Wow,” you breathed.

“Wow, indeed.” He echoed, caressing your back.

"I'm so happy to hear that, I was so worried about--it doesn't matter. I love you," you whispered. He pulled you tighter. And tighter still.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

“Again.”

You pulled away and planted a deep kiss on his lips, “I love you, you silly dwarf.”

He grinned, "And I you... amrâlimê; my One."

Of all scenarios to come into play, this was not something you expected to ever happen. But it just goes to show that it's important to take chances; leaps of faith. You may not know where you'll land, but if you don't make that jump you'll never know.

Bofur cleared his throat.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

You felt his talented fingers running tenderly across your scalp and through your hair and you sighed in contentment, blindly reaching your hand up to return the favor, knowing that he enjoyed it just as much as you did. With your head on his chest, you felt his heartbeat quicken in hard, steady thumps.

“After the battle is over, will you come live with me, as mine? My intended? My wife, I mean. Unless you’d rather court first, which I understand, but well, y’know, since we shared this very satisfying, intimate bond and declared our love, I thought we’d skip a step 'er two, or--well--” he rambled nervously.

You adjusted your position to observe his face and a surge of warmth flooded you as you soaked in the words, “Really?”

“Really,” he smiled. “It would give me great honor to marry you. Or court! Whichever you would prefer, as long as it means I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

In return you nuzzled your smiling face into his neck and held onto him tight. He gave a hearty laugh and wiggled at the tickling sensation you provided him, “I hope that’s a yes.”

You nodded feverishly, completely overjoyed at the thought of sharing a home -- finally _having_ a home again -- with someone you loved.

“Besides,” you giggled and jostled his chin, “how could anyone resist not waking up to this handsome mug every morning?”

He nodded sagely and stroked his chin, “True, true.”

“And I could definitely go for your acclaimed pheasant stew right about now,” you added.

He returned your chuckle and placed a kiss on your head, “Aye, I’ll make it special for ya, love. Whenever you like. Promise.”

You hummed in response as your heart became overwhelmed with such joy and happiness for the present moment, trying not to worry about what lies ahead of you. Neither of you knew that to expect to come of tomorrow and both decided not to speak a word about it. But one thing was certain. You were going to do everything you could to survive. Because now you both had someone to come home to. Something truly worth fighting for. A real treasure beyond all measure.

While your hands sifted through his hair and trailed a path down his face, you started tugging on his moustache. Almost instantly, you felt him hardening and lengthening against your thigh in response. You looked at him torn between amused and impressed. Bofur smiled innocently and shrugged.

"Sorry, love. The lad has a mind of his own." He totally didn't sound sorry at all.

"Yeah, well so do I," you countered, rolling over to straddle his hips. His hands rested on your waist and he shuddered with delight when he felt that you were still ready for him.

"Are ye proposin' round two, my dear? I’ll have you know us dwarves are known for our stamina as well as our strength." He gasped when you rocked on him and frowned when you pushed him down from trying to turn you over.

You smirked, "I can be quite dominant, too. And..."

He bit his lip when you pinched one of his nipples.

"I haven't finished showing you what else we did in my dream."

You allowed him to pull you in for a swift kiss and just as you were about to get to work, he swiftly overpowered you onto your back.  

"Hey," you pouted in jest. That was kissed that away real quick.

"Why focus on a dream when ye can have the real thing?" he quirked. 

You smiled and nodded indulgently, "This is true, but I did have this ongoing fantasy of finally being able to ride you… on top."

"Oh!" With that, he quickly flipped you both back so that you were on top. With a happy sigh, he put his arms behind his head and threw you a cheeky wink. "Then by all means, your wish is my command!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again if it sucked... :'X And thank you to those who commented on the first chapter and have given kudos! I hope I did our Bofur justice! Thanks for reading!


	4. A Fighting Chance (DwalinxReader) Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dwalin realizes he's found his One in you, he's not sure what to do to win your favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None!  
> (Part 1 of 3)

Dwalin was anything but a coward. He would never run in the face of danger, never back down from a fight, accept any challenge thrown his way, and he was as fearless as they came; given his many scars, perhaps it was to a fault.

So, why was it that he’d turn into a blubbering nancy whenever it came to you?

He couldn’t understand it. And the more he thought about this conundrum, the more annoyed he got about it. “This is ridiculous!” he would say. “She’s just a lass, for Durin’s sake...”

But then you would smile at him or look at him with those Y/E/C eyes of yours and he didn’t know what to do except stare and bark out something unintentionally brusque while his heart tightened and his brain scrambled for better words to say. Then he’d stomp off with curious aches in his chest that would last for hours on end.

Several times in the past Dwalin had went to Oin at first for these chest pains of his and even the esteemed apothecary was at a loss to their source. Oin’s last resort was sending Dwalin your way, the company’s additional healer, for a second opinion. You were equally stumped but after a thorough examination, you had offered him a remedy that seemed to do the trick and so he continued returning to you henceforth whenever they came about.

Dwalin figured he’d just eaten something that didn’t agree with him or perhaps he was experiencing the first issues of his old age catching up with him, but then he began noticing a pleasant hum in his soul whenever he thought about you that jump started the pains.

It was a foreign, yet oddly pleasant feeling; similar to how he felt during the thrill of battle. And it was so benign that he didn’t notice what it truly meant. He’d catch himself watching your sleeping form curled near the fire wondering if you had enough to eat that day, how you were fairing, or if you were also tending to your own health and well-being apart from caring for the others.

And then one night during his watch, it finally clicked for the battle hardened warrior. He loved you. The realization hit him like a hammer to the head hard enough to make him see stars and from then on it was like seeing you for the first time.

In fact, Dwalin had become enamored quite suddenly and unexpectedly, he just never realized it until that moment when he finally pieced it together. He was quick to deny his feelings since he’s never felt this way for someone before but he was just as quick to succumb to them. As a seasoned fighter in many areas except with matters of the heart, he knew that there was no fighting this off. This was it -- you were it. His One. And you had him completely wrapped around your finger while you had no clue about his feelings and worse still, he hadn’t the foggiest on how to approach you about it.

Before long, he had began making up false ailments as poor excuses just to bask in your company in hopes that he would have the courage to talk to you about this whole thing and get you accustomed to him. Sadly, he never was able to find the words. And he knew you were uncomfortable around him, which hurt more than he thought it could.

“Fix this,” he grumbled, an outstretched arm sporting a gash from sparring earlier that he could have just as well patched himself.

“Of course,” you replied cordially.

“My leg muscle is sore.”

A prompt massaging did the trick for that.

“My ear is clogged.”

You had a solution.

“I can’t sleep.”

You gave him some tea.

“Can’t get this bloody splinter out.”

You laughed, “Have a seat.”

For every silly ailment he brought forth, you would “fix” him every time. You were just doing your duty, he knew, but he relished in your tender touches as your skilled hands worked quickly and efficiently at the task presented, sending him on his way when you were done.

Tonight was a night like any other and the warrior watched you fondly from his spot in camp. 

You were busy talking with Fili and Bilbo and your head dipped back in laughter at something Bofur whispered to you. Your laugh rang out like the sweetest of melodies and Dwalin couldn’t help but smile along with you. He adored the way your nose bunched up whenever you laugh especially hard, and thus far, only Bofur had the ability of doing that, the lucky swine.

Dwalin was tasked to be your “bodyguard” when they all stumbled upon you in a forest after Thorin saved you from a warg attack and you vowed to repay the debt by supplying them with your god-tier healing abilities as long as they were willing to escort you to the next town of Man on their path. This temporary arrangement benefitted all, so it was widely accepted. Dwalin found his new role to be a hindrance at first, but now it came second nature to him. It was his duty to protect you from harm. The amount of care and diligence you took to care for them was heartwarming and humbling. And since he spent a lot of time protecting you, it was you who felt the need to patch him up. You didn’t shy away from blood or scrapes as most maids would, and for that he found very enlightening.

As he watched you with the lads, Dwalin wished he had the means to have such effortless conversations with you like Bofur, Fili, Bilbo, and the rest of them could. You were capable of holding any sort of conversation with basically every single one of them apart from him. Outside of his few-worded sentences, Dwalin wondered if he even existed at all in your eyes. Aside from being a “patient”, that is. And thus, he took to listening to your conversations instead of participating.

“So, whereabouts do you come from exactly?” Bilbo asked.

You gave your answer along with a small description of the town you ventured from. It wasn’t a well-known location, but it was relatively close enough to the Shire that only Bilbo seemed to know of it.

“Really? My, that’s quite far…” the hobbit marveled with wide-eyes. Your lips turned up into a half smirk and you gave a shrug while Bilbo recounted details on what he’d heard about your town to the inquiring dwarves, looking to you to confirm whenever he wasn’t sure about something.

“Sounds like a quaint little place! An’ d’ya have anyone waitin’ for ya back home?” Bofur asked suddenly.

Dwalin perked up immediately in interest, though doing his damndest to appear indifferent as he took to sharpening one of his beloved axes to give him something else to focus his attention on. His ears, however, remained as open as sonars.

“Just my family,” your voice answered softly.

Ah, there it was again...

That sharp tugging in his chest that tore him to pieces. Dwalin paid ample attention to the care of the sharp blade, but his heart was busy getting lost somewhere in the wilderness kicking rocks. Of course a kind beauty like yourself had a family waiting for your return. He was willing to bet all the coin in his pocket that your children looked just like you: perfect and beautiful; perhaps with your eyes or hair color. He wondered if you had a son, a daughter, or both. Did your husband treat you well? You must miss him…

Bofur chuckled, “Aye, of course.”

“If I may ask,” Fili started carefully. “Why would your husband allow you on such a perilous journey by yourself?”

_Capital question, lad!_

Dwalin found himself grumbling in annoyance, now sharpening his axe more fervently while thinking on how and why you’d marry a foolish dolt who would dare let you do that! What a blasted jacksie he was to let you wander off alone! Why, if you were Dwalin’s wife, he’d refuse to let you leave on such dangerous travels by yourself unless he accompanied you. Your horse had perished and you were attacked by wargs for Durin’s sake! Had your husband no sense at all?

Your bark of laughter tore through the air as swift and free as the wind at the question. Dwalin’s eyes flicked up for a moment to catch the sight and then returned to his lap, but then your next words had somersaulted his heart up to his throat.

“I’m not married. My family is my parents,” you specified with a wag of your finger.

“What? I thought for certain you were married!” Kili exclaimed, admittedly baffled. He had just joined in on the conversation and squeezed in beside his brother with pipe in hand. Dwalin’s head snapped up as rekindled hope flared in his chest. He still had a chance!

You giggled again and shook your head, “No, no. Being on the road for most of my adult life has robbed me of that pleasure, I’m afraid.”

“That sounds awful, do you not get lonely being a traveling spinster?” Kili asked.

“Kili!” Fili scolded, throwing you an apologetic look on his brother’s behalf.

You waved them off, clearly unoffended by his brashness.

“Well, yeah, everyone gets lonely. But the road isn’t a place to raise a family. However, that’s not to say that I’m not looking. Anything can happen in the wild, and I certainly wouldn’t turn away a willing suitor if he was game for putting up with me,” you winked. “It’d be nice to settle down someday. That’s partially the reason why I left my hometown aside from wanting to start fresh in a new place.”

“Oh, aye?” Fili said thoughtfully.

Dwalin sat straighter and bulged his muscles out as if to show you that he was a more than a willing, capable suitor. _If you would just look at him and see--_

“Well then!” Bofur clapped with reviewed fervor, “Color me intrigued! Tell us what you like in a lad; we’ll be sure to keep an eye out for ya when we return to Erebor. It’s the least we can do considerin’ how well yeh treated us.”

“Never pegged dwarves to be matchmakers,” you snorted good-naturedly.

“It is a rather amusing thought, isn’t it,” Bilbo agreed with a lighthearted chuckle.

“Oi!” Bofur feigned hurt, “Give us a chance at least! Who knows, maybe one of our own is a right match--”

Bilbo couldn’t contain his laughter and you chuckled right along with him.

Bofur frowned. “What’s so funny about that? I expect Laketown will be all awash with merchant traders of both man and dwarven kind alike once Erebor is reestablished; it was a popular location back in the day -- perfect for settlin’ down -- an’ all sorts of characters could be found hustlin’ and bustlin’ around. Odds are someone ought to catch your fancy.”

You seemed to ponder in honest consideration at his words.

It never occurred to Dwalin until that moment that there was a possibility that he was not your type.

What if you preferred men of your own kind? What if you didn’t fancy warriors? What if you thought he was too old for you? Did your kind believe in Ones? Was there anything at all that he could do to win your favor? He was still going to give it a try, but nonetheless, as doubt and worry began to creep in, Dwalin’s ears remained open to the conversation unfolding in front of him; hanging onto every word to assess his best approach and evaluate his chances.

“This is true,” you muttered thoughtfully. “All right, let’s see...”

You brought a hand up to your chin in thought.

“One of several ways to my heart has always been through my stomach. Feed me a tasty meal and that’s brownie points for sure. Not to sound cliche, but like most ladies, I do admire strength! Hmm…”

You began listing off other qualities and traits you found attractive in your ideal partner while Bofur, Bilbo, Fili, and Kili all listened and nodded raptly in interest, asking questions whenever appropriate. Dwalin was practically beaming when he heard what you were looking for. He could do those things! He _was_ those things!

But right before his ego could swell with the boost of self-confidence he so needed, you had popped that bubble and doubt had swarmed in once more.

“And what of their beard then?”

You leaned forward past the two Durin brothers to throw Nori, the newest addition to the discussion, a curious glance, “What about it?”

“What’s your preferred style and length?”

“Ah, yes! I’d like to know that as well. Surely a nice moustache, yes?” Bofur grinned pointedly, bringing up his finger to twirl his own.

You shrugged, “Oh, that’s not important. It’s just facial hair.”

A silence that was much too loud descended upon the gathering. The lads now looked at you with widened eyes and you looked between them not understanding your mistake. But then worry settled in, as if you had offered a grave insult unknowingly. Bilbo appeared to be equally perplexed by the sudden quiet.

“Y/N,” Fili blanched.

“ _Just_ facial hair?” Someone else said.

“But it’s the most important thing there _is_ to a lad! It’s what differentiates boys from proper men!” Nori finally found his voice.

“Hardly,” Bilbo interjected with a scoff. Being beardless himself, along with all of his male kin, he didn’t find anything important about them any more than you did.

Kili lamented. Fili pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily, “Ugh, you two…”

“What’s the big deal? They’re so rough and weird and dirty! It’s hardly a deciding factor upon choosing your lover,” you protested.

“I agree,” snubbed Bilbo, who gave a curt nod.

That was an even larger mistake. There were a round of winces and even Dwalin facepalmed just out of embarrassment for you.

By this time all of the dwarves had jumped into the conversation more than willing to illuminate you with the common sense you were seriously lacking and Dwalin could now look upon you with no restraint. Mahal have mercy on him, you could grab onto his beard all you wanted until he had you convinced. He’d make a believer out of you or his fantastic beard be damned!

Bofur, in his usual animated fashion, leapt to his feet, “Weird? _Dirty?!_ They are certainly not!”

“Aye!” Gloin enthusiastically slapped his thigh. “I don’t know what sorta lads you’ve been associating yourself with, Miss Y/N, but _proper_ facial hair is well-conditioned and groomed with utmost precision and care! They are most luxurious textures and works of art.”

“Pleasant to the touch as a beard should be!” Fili concurred, “And creatively styled with twists and braids, like this,” pointing proudly at his own. You observed in amusement and scratched the side of your head at how riled up they were getting; you looked like to wanted to disappear as the dwarves descended.

“Each one is unique to the dwarrow and adorned with handmade beads and metalwork from your family line,” Balin tacked on as he gestured to some bedecked in the variety of beards seated around. Even Bifur was heartily nodding and gesturing to his own beard as he rambled on his agreement in Khuzdul.

The hobbit blinked a few times and barked out a couple humorless laughs, “Now hold on just a moment--”

And Bilbo was all but shoved aside as the men drew closer showing you “proof” of what great beards on a man should look like, and how “weird” and "dirty" they weren’t. All argued over whose was best before looking to you for approval to garner which style your personal tastes leaned towards -- which was just another way for them to fluff their own egos. You remained politely indifferent in hopes to quell the conversation.

And achieved disappointing results.

“Lads,” Dori tutted. “Don’t be so harsh on the lady. She’s likely used to human beards, is all.”

“Well, yeah,” you admitted obviously. “Besides, most men my age never grow out their beards to such lengths, if at all. It’s just a cultural thing.”

“No wonder! That explains everything. Human beards, or lack thereof, are not nearly as grandeur as ours,” Nori nodded, as if that was that. There was a round of mutual agreement.

You cocked an eyebrow, “What are you saying?”

Bilbo piped in now with his arms crossed from beside you, “Yes, please. Do tell how beards dictate one’s ‘grand’ masculinity.”

Gloin scoffed and waved Bilbo away.

“This doesn’t concern you, lad. Now, Y/N, human beards are just naturally inferior,” he explained matter-of-factly. “There’s just no comparison to a right dwarven beard. See how full and thick this is?” You suppressed the urge to laugh as he fluffed his beard in front of you. “Now, look at Bifur’s, Dwalin’s, and Balin. See how pristine they’re kept?”

You had the good sense to look and nodded indulgently and Gloin grunted in approval.

“Now, name one human man who has a beard as lush as ours.”

You blinked, thinking it was a rhetoric question and therefore didn’t offer a response.

“Go on then! Give us a name!” Dori inquired.

Oh. They were serious...

It truly was a laughable conversation that you never in your life would have ever dreamed of discussing. They were more than passionate about their facial hair. This was beyond the norm for male grooming and borderline obsessive. Yet somehow, it was very endearing and so different from any human men you’d known. But what Gloin asked seemed plausible enough: you really couldn’t place a name, so you looked to the figure who silently overviewed the conversation.

“Gandalf...?”

The stoic wizard who had been keeping quiet throughout the entire debacle now coughed and held up his hand while the dwarves burst into gut-wrenching laughter.

“Oh my dear, Y/N! I am quite flattered, however, wizard beards also pale in comparison to those of dwarves, I’m afraid.”

Several of the dwarves snickered at your expense, others muttered “I told you so’s”.

“I’m sorry,” you stated to the group, irked. “It’s still just facial hair to me, and I’ve touched enough men’s faces to garner an opinion of beards in general. The length and style of the hair doesn’t matter and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.”

“Good on you!” Bilbo praised, patting you on the back in support.

The only sounds to be heard now was the crackling of the fire and the buzzing and chirping of insects going about their busy insect life. Dwalin watched with pity as you slowly withdrew into yourself, trying to ignore the cocoon of eyes penetrating you from all sides.

“Nothin’ we _say_ , eh?” Nori smirked.

“Well lads,” Bofur sighed. “Looks like there’s only one thing left to do about this.”

Everyone shared a nod of silent agreement leaving you to look around in helpless confusion once more.

Blood drained out of Dwalin’s face. _No, they were not suggesting…_

“Y/N, we can’t put this matter to rest without knockin’ some sense into ya: for the sake of science, touch my beard.”

 _BOFUR_.

You gaped, “I beg your pardon?”

“Here, here!” Gloin approved with a thrust of his fist in the air.

“If that doesn’t convince her, nothing will!” Kili added with full confidence.

A resounding “Aye!” cycled through the camp as they threw in their own choice words of encouragement as you remained still. Dwalin’s knuckles cracked and his body tensed.

“Go on! Give it a stroke,” Bofur wagged his eyebrows and stuck his chin out for you. “We’ll make a beard-lover out of you yet!”

Your eyes whisked around unsure. “That’s not necessary--”

 _Agreed_.

“Touch it!”

 _No_.

“Just grab onto it, lass!”

 _NO_.

“Oh, for the love of… it’s just a beard, Y/N, s’not gonna bite ya!”

“Ugh, fine,” you sighed in resignation.

Dwalin felt panic rise in him and he huffed, feeling his muscles tighten. _She’s mine!_  Those possessive words surged throughout his entire being filling him with battle fire and he wanted to throw you over his shoulder and haul you far away from this foolishness; suddenly he did not want Fili talking to you or Bofur whispering in your ear again or Bilbo smiling at you like he did before. Or anyone else that wasn’t him to win your affections. The instinct to shield you from them burned like a furnace inside. He growled.

How dare they! He’ll show them! He’ll show _you_!

“That’s enough!” Dwalin shouted the moment your hand reached out. “She don’t need to prove us nothin’! Y/N, you keep those hands to yerself!”

You instantly dropped it back into your lap and your eyes soon followed suit.

Bofur quirked an eyebrow and looked between you two a few times. “Are ye volunteering, yerself, Dwalin? I mean, yeh do have a mighty fine beard and the lass will need a good convincin’ so by all means, let ‘er give it a tug,” the hatted dwarf smirked.

Dwalin jumped in his seat and blushed at the thought of your hands tangled in his facial hair, stroking, pulling... “Erm,” he stuttered.

You made a face and frantically waved your hands. “It’s really not that big of a deal, I’ll just take your word for it! Really, I don’t need convinc--”

Fili jumped in next, grabbing your hand in both of his, “Well, if he won’t, I will! Here, you can touch mine -- I just tended to my braids earlier.”

“Fili, I will snap that arm of yers in half if you don’t take yer hands off of ‘er!”

“What in Mahal’s name is the matter with-- _ow_! Bofur, what was that for?!” Fili rubbed the sore spot in his side where he elbowed him.

Fili dropped your hand when he and Dwalin locked eyes and Dwalin slowly sat back down in his seat, maintaining eye contact with the golden-haired prince as he continued the sharpening of his axe in slow, deliberate swipes: a clear message.

Fili only huffed and frowned, mumbling about how you would forever be doomed with a misconception of beards and how you’ll never know what you’re missing.

“I must agree with Mister Dwalin,” Dori interjected before the awkward silence that followed became too much for anyone to bear. “Beard touching is much too intimate for simply proving a point -- especially in public! Perhaps it best to keep up respectable morale. She is a lady, after all! And for the younglings.”

This was met with lackluster enthusiasm and protests on just who these “younglings” were. But you and Dwalin both sighed breaths of relief, for different reasons.

“Aww… you both are big prudes!” Bofur pouted in defeat.

“Aye,” Fili concurred pointedly at Dwalin, still salty at being denied a chance to sway your opinion as the lads began to rile up once more.

“Enough,” Thorin’s baritone voice boomed for the first time since the conversation began. “No beard touching. End of discussion.”

Dwalin smiled at his friend who nodded in response before joining the lads by the fire, changing the topic to plans of their future and what lies ahead that they should prepare for. As this didn’t necessarily concern you, Bilbo and yourself joined together at a more secluded spot in camp and settled back into the groove of pleasant conversation on your own. Completely oblivious to the pair of eyes that followed your every move.

“Everythin’ all right, brother?” Balin’s voice snapped Dwalin’s attention back from his murderous thoughts after witnessing Bilbo putting a hand on your knee.

“Hn,” he growled, his glaring eyes never leaving you, even when your eyes locked.

“Ye seem… er, preoccupied. What is it?” Balin pressed.

“Nothin’.”

“I think Grasper is sharpened enough now, laddie.”

Dwalin realized that he was gripping the rod of his axe so tightly that his hand was shaking and he instantly released it before anyone else took notice and strapped it to his back.

Balin searched his brother’s face. “You sure everything is fine?”

“Just got some chest pains is all,” Dwalin replied tersely.

That wasn’t exactly a lie. This was jealousy he was feeling and it cranked his heart to bits and left his mouth sour to the taste watching you and the hobbit huddled so closely engaged in your own worlds that he wanted so desperately to be a part of. He just didn't know how. 

The older dwarf hummed and nodded.

“Again, eh? Perhaps you should consult with your healer about that,” said Balin offhandedly.

“And why would I do a thing like that for?” Dwalin snapped, immediately regretting how his second outburst had turned the heads of everyone in camp. Including yours. Balin’s brows lowered suspiciously.

“I’m fine,” Dwalin continued softly. “It’ll pass.”

“If you say so,” Balin mumbled, keeping his wise eyes on him while Dwalin stared into the fire to collect his thoughts. Dwalin knew his brother wanted to say more, but he was thankful that he didn’t.

With a grunt, Dwalin abruptly stood from his seat and openly announced to take first watch duty, even though it wasn’t his turn that night. Before leaving, he slapped his brother on the arm affectionately as his way of apologizing for his outburst and then walked off. He had a lot to consider.

He couldn’t keep doing this to himself.

He couldn’t keep watching you from afar as his feelings continued to bubble and fester. He couldn’t take the jealousy and exploding at his kin when they truly did nothing wrong. And he couldn’t watch you possibly fall for any other man (or dwarrow) without even having the balls to put himself out there first. Dwalin was not a coward. He faced off an army of orcs without so much as batting an eyelash. So, he could do this. He could find a way to talk to you.

But how?

Yes, he had a lot to consider. You had unknowingly given him the details he needed to formulate a plan, now all he had to do was think of the best way to put it into action.

 

* * *

 

After an exceptionally exhausting day of traveling, rest could finally be had. 

You were busying yourself with your boots in the process of unlacing them and Dwalin grinned at the concentrated pout you were wearing as he walked over. It was such a sweet sight: you biting your lip, your wee hands working diligently on that stubborn knot, your little grunts of frustration when you couldn’t find that sweet spot to loosen the ties. His heart was pounding but it’s only going to be a simple conversation, nothing to be nervous about. He took a deep breath and made his approach. 

“Y/N,” he barked, startling you. “I need teh talk to ya.”

“What is it this time?” you asked, looking up at him from your spot. 

He knew you were referring to another ailment, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he sharply inclined his head for you to follow. Understanding he meant _now,_ not later, you gave a sigh as you stood and winced. There was a pebble that somehow found its way into your boot during the day and had been painfully digging into your heel for hours on end. You were trying to get your boots untied so you could finally get the bloody thing out, but that knot Fili tied would not let up. 

“What’s wrong?” Dwalin asked. 

You kicked your foot out a few times in hopes of dislodging it. “Got a pebble stuck in my boot like something fierce, but I can’t seem to untie the laces. It really hurts. Anyway, what did you nee-- woah, _hey_!” 

Dwalin had promptly shoved you back onto your seat by your shoulders, leaving you little to no time to regain your senses from his swift, forceful push. The only thing you could focus on now was the new pain in your backside, no pun intended.

Before you could demand what the hell his problem was, Dwalin dropped down on a knee in front of you and got to work on your boot. You felt yourself blush at the uncharacteristically kind gesture and sat there at a loss of words while you watched him work. With his head bowed, you got a full view of the tattoos on his bald scalp and decided to set your focus on that. They were very intricate and foreign in meaning to you, but you admired them for their mystery. You wondered what they meant or if they represented anything important, but didn’t bother asking. Dwalin probably wouldn’t have interest in divulging those details with you anyway. 

With a few decisive tugs and pulls, your laces were freed and your boot was yanked from your foot. You sighed with relief, wiggling your toes and swirling your foot to relish in the removed nuisance. Dwalin gave a powerful pat on the sole of the footwear and the culprit was finally released from its confines. It fell to the ground at your feet. 

You gasped. It wasn’t a pebble at all -- not even a rock! It was a small piece of gemstone. You didn’t know what it was or how it got there, but it sure was pretty! Dwalin picked it up before you could reach for it and held the stone high in the air to catch better light for closer observation. His eyes squinted while he hummed in contemplation. 

“Very lucky, this!” he mused. The piece of stone was small, comically so, compared to Dwalin’s huge hands. He handed it to you after his inspection was finished before placing your boot back on your foot, smacking your hand away when you tried to take over. 

“What is it?” You turned the raw gem over in your fingers, admiring its beauty with a smile. 

He redid your laces using a more simpler knot while he spoke to you.

“A piece of an amethyst. Be sure to hang onta that, it’s good fortune findin’ gems in yer shoes.” 

A rather oddly appropriate -- albeit strange -- dwarven superstition, but you found yourself nodding regardless and smiling down at the stone a while longer before pocketing the purple fragment. 

“So, what did you need to talk about?” you asked. “Did you want to go somewhere more private?”

His demeanor instantly shifted and you braced yourself when he stood back up with a hardened look in his eyes. 

Dwalin was like a bull in a china closet. It’s bad enough he was always staring and glaring at you inexplicably; bothering you with minute scrapes and bruises that didn’t really need to be looked at as if he didn’t trust your abilities as a healer since you weren’t of their own kin. You understood his undying loyalty to Thorin and he didn’t want to take any chances with strangers on their secret quest, but this was ridiculous! Considering how you almost got killed by wargs, enough so that he had to be your bodyguard, you’d think he would loosen up a little and trust you. 

“Do you have chest pains again?” you ventured in his silence. 

Dwalin scratched at his chin through his beard and mumbled, “Somethin’ like that.”

You noticed a few beads of sweat appear between his thick brows and his cheeks were flushed pink. Suddenly worried that he might have an actual ailment to tend to, you stood up to reach over and placed a palm over his forehead to check for a fever and he stiffened. He was hot to the touch, which would have normally concerned you had Oin not informed you early on that dwarves were generally very hot-blooded, which indicated a healthy dwarrow. 

“Hmm, temperature seems normal.” 

You wiped his sweat from your palm on the front of your trousers while your eyes skimmed his face for any other tell-tale symptoms for possible causes of concern.

Dwalin mumbled something you didn’t quite catch. You asked him to repeat himself just as the back of your hand pressed against his cheek to confirm the temperature you felt was consistent, brushing by his beard in the process. He flinched under your touch and you snatched your hand back, suddenly remembering what Dori mentioned about beard touching and how intimate it was for them. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean...” you muttered. 

Gods, that beard conversation was very awkward… you were thankful that Dwalin, Dori, and Thorin stepped in to put a stop to it before it got out of hand, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious to touch one of those dwarven beards the guys were raving about. They were right, too. You didn’t know any human men who had a beard as full and lush as theirs to test out. 

You were surprised to see Dwalin reach for you, “You can… y-you can… argh, _Mahal_. Here.” 

If you were shocked when he reached for your hand, you were completely stunned when he placed your hand palm side down on his cheek directly upon his beard. You tried to jerk your hand back on impulse but his grip remained firm; a stark indication that you had his full consent to touch him and that he actually _wanted_ you to. 

While there, you couldn’t help but fuel your lingering curiosity from last night’s discussion by sifting your fingers through the thick tufts of hair. It was definitely thicker than any human beard you’ve ever touched in the past but his was vastly softer than what you would have ever imagined -- coarse, yes, but still soft. Dwalin released his hand from on top of yours and leaned his face into your palm with only the slightest hesitation. 

You were entranced with just how… _nice_ his beard felt. 

All professionalism momentarily flew out the window while you ran the pads of your fingers and palm up and into his hair with renewed interest, minding his ear during the travel to where the beard met it; his actual hair was even more silky, but only just.

Worried that you might be overstepping your bounds, you flicked your eyes to his for any sign that he wanted you to stop but he had his closed, brows furrowed. He was likely clinging onto the guise of the “concerned healer” that you were trying to keep up while you were shamelessly feeling his face up for, erm, “educational” purposes. Your thumb caught onto his moustache during the descent back down his face and he sighed deeply through his nose when you gave a light, experimental tug. 

He still did nothing to stop you so you brought your other hand up to feel the other side of his jaw and offered it the same attention and waited on pins and needles for him to pull away or tell you to stop, but he never did. Pleased, you continued to “check” him for signs of discomfort by lightly massaging his face and jaw, sifting your fingers through his locks of facial hair. 

That was when you heard it. 

A soft, rumbling hum in his chest and his darkened blue eyes lazily opened and lifted up to meet yours, freezing you in place. You felt a shiver run through you. Not one of fear or disgust, no. But a moment was happening between you. Something was different. And it was actually quite nice. 

Over the time it took you to know Dwalin, you’d grown accustomed to his harsh manner of speaking; he was such a dwarf in every sense of the word and yet right at this moment he seemed almost… tender. And dare you throw in affectionate? You’d never seen that look in his eyes before directed towards you or anyone else, really -- hell, you’ve never maintained close quarters with him for this long before. Usually you just patched him up and sent him on his way but yet here you were noticing all these little details of Dwalin’s eyes and face for the first time. You thought his eyes were gray, but only now you were realizing they were as blue as the sky on a bright, sunny day. 

And he had so many scars littered across his face. _Did they still hurt?_ you wondered. Your touch ghosted over the imperfections on his face before returning to the softness of his beard. All the while, Dwalin’s breathing had become ragged, deep. 

Your fingers gave another gentle tug on his mutton chops and that same moaning sound was repeated. Though, you misheard it for what the sound actually was. What _you_ heard was a grunt of pain. What you didn’t hear was the groan of pleasure you were giving him by your curious ministrations. With no verbal cues to go on, you repeated the gesture again and the sound became a hair louder and his eyes drifted closed with his brows furrowing down again.

 _Ah, this was probably where he was hurting,_ you thought. _On a very intimate place on his body_. 

But why or how could he be hurting _there_ of all places? A toothache, perhaps? You looked to him questioningly and his cheek leaned further into your touch. His blue eyes opened again to study your face as if urging you to continue. To piece together a puzzle he just expected you to understand how to solve, as per the Dwalin way. 

“Is this where you’re aching?” you asked cluelessly. 

“Oho, I reckon he’s achin’ somewhere much more sensitive than that, lass!” Bofur interjected wistfully while he casually passed you both. 

Turning wide eyed from Bofur to Dwalin, you saw as he went from looking almost sweet to murderous in due time, his eyes never leaving yours during the transition. For reasons unknown, you couldn’t find it in yourself to remove your hands despite the teasing remark. 

Bofur sidled up to you and stopped with a hop. “So, did he happen to sway your opinion at all? I see ye got more than a handful of beard in your hands to venture a--” 

“You get outta here!” Dwalin bellowed, finally turning his face to Bofur, but not removing himself from your palms. Bofur only laughed and scampered off like the instigating imp he was. Dwalin turned his attention back to you.

“No, it’s not where I bloody ache, woman!” Dwalin snapped. 

Well, that did it. The moment was gone. 

Glowering, you tore your hands away and crossed your arms. “All right, that’s it, I’m not allowing you to talk to me like this anymore. Either tell me where you’re hurting or stop wasting my time with these foolish games!”

Dwalin clenched his massive fists by his sides and he opened and closed his mouth an awful lot but no words came out. You quirked an eyebrow as you waited for him to get on with it. But when nothing came, you felt your anger dissipate the moment you saw something flash behind those blue eyes of his. For the first time that you knew of, Dwalin’s confident, brusque mask had melted away into nervous uncertainty. 

He looked worried, almost ashamed. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted without knowing why -- Dwalin sure didn’t -- and he blinked up at you curiously. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, not when you came to me for help. It’s just…” you sighed and stopped. 

For a second, you wondered if you should even bother telling him everything he did that bothered you that you’ve been keeping locked away. It sure would clear the air and would relieve a lot of tension that had been building on your shoulders every time you saw him. But having him here in front of you, actually sharing a companionable moment, you decided against it. Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe that was just how he was -- how _dwarves_ were and you were being too sensitive about it.

“I’m sorry. What did you want to talk about?” you smiled. 

Dwalin swallowed hard and stared for a moment. He then cleared his throat, “Don’ apologize to me, lass, you did nothin’ wrong. Forgive me for snappin’, it was wrong of me,” he bowed his head and straightened, finding it difficult to meet your eye, but once he did, he held it. 

“There was somethin’ I wanted to ask.”

“Oh. Well...?” You prompted when he didn’t continue. 

”Do you prefer dark meat or light?”  

You frowned and cautiously searched his eyes but then laughed at the random question when it became apparent that he was quite serious. You indulged him with an honest answer and he seemed oddly pleased with it. 

“All right then,” he nodded and then left, going about his business as usual. You stared after him in utmost confusion, looking around to see if anyone else saw.

What, that’s it? What in the world... After all that, he just wanted to know what type of meat you preferred--

“Y/N!” Oin snagged your attention away from pondering too hard on that puzzling thought before you could linger too much on the random situation you found yourself in. “Ya mind helpin’ me prepare these herbs?”

"Coming!"

Dwalin was a perplexing character, that you were certain. But little did you know, this increasingly strange behavior was just the beginning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another favorite dwarf of mine that isn't showered with enough lovin'! Since I tend to get carried away with writing enormous chapters, this was immensely shortened for your sanity (and mine). I'm not sure how many chapters this Dwalin mini-story will accrue, but stay tuned for chapter 2 and thanks for reading! :D


	5. A Fighting Chance (DwalinxReader) Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Using what he's learned about you, Dwalin does his best to win your affections. But as time is of the essence, Dwalin knows he needs to act fast before it's too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None!  
> (Part 2 of 3)

“Why is he taking so long?” Thorin asked no one in particular. 

The uncrowned king was pacing around the camp in blatant annoyance, his boots stomping past you for the third time as your stomach growled. But you paid no mind to any of it. Your ears were tuning out the conversations being had in the vicinity as your attention was captured by the book in your lap that Oin had lent you regarding various healing remedies with the herbs he collected a few nights prior. You already knew what most of them were for and had started making additions based on your own experience to help further expand his resources. It was the best distraction you had against the hunger in your empty stomach and this engulfed you completely. 

“I’m not at all worried,” Nori commented offhandedly even as he impatiently tapped his foot. He was one of the first to complain about hunger, but he still had full faith in that it would soon be satiated. 

“Oh no?” Dori countered. “Nothing at all out there then? No game, no danger--” 

“We’re off the beatin’ trail; what’s he goin’ to get in a tussie with out there? A bush? There’s _nothin’_ here for miles!”

Ori’s eyes widened, “If there’s nothing here for miles, then that means he had to venture far…”

Dwalin had taken it upon himself to hunt for supper against Thorin’s insistence. But you all haven’t had a decent meal in weeks, and since you were in the relative safety of the forest grounds, there was likely some game lurking about and nobody wanted to waste the opportunity for a freshly caught, cooked meal. Plus, there weren’t any towns nearby and nothing substantial to forage. Although Thorin wanted everyone to tough it out since he was running on a tight schedule, he also understood that getting food was a pertinent role in that equation.

Thorin added a few things under his breath in their dwarven language upon hearing his own worries and concerns being voiced out loud by his people.

“He’ll be fine,” said Balin.

“He should have taken someone with him! I will allow five more minutes, and if Dwalin is not back by then I will have no choice but to--”

“Mister Dwalin!” Kili leapt to his feet with childlike glee before stopping short at the approaching figure. “W-what happened to _you_?”

“Dwalin, what on Middle-Earth did you get yourself into now?” Thorin rushed his friend’s side in an outrage and then warily looked behind the warrior from whence he ventured. “Were you attacked?”

Dwalin grunted, brushing off any helping hands that wandered close, “Blood isn’t mine, no trouble is out there -- we’re safe. And I brought supper. It’s all skinned and ready for cookin’, I just need help hauling in the rest of the cut.” 

“The _rest_?” Bilbo echoed incredulously as he eyed the large load the warrior was already carrying. 

You were still so focused on the book that you almost missed the jostling of the dwarves as they all leapt into action around you. In fact, if Bifur hadn’t ran into your knee, you wouldn’t have noticed the bloodridden Dwalin marching past with two huge legs of something or other being towed behind him. He threw the burly bundle to an excited Gloin who wasted no time in getting it to an equally excited Bombur in waiting. 

“Whoa, stop!” you barked, tucking the book under your arm and running over to Dwalin as he toweled himself off. He looked over his shoulder at you, a bit winded and with visible difficulty at steadying his breath. Your eyes traced all over his body, searching for the source of the wounds that the blood was coming from. 

“Not my blood, lass, don’t worry,” he mumbled indifferently, finishing off his face. You hummed and stood beside him, watching as he cleaned himself off with all the care a child would have for a task they didn’t want to finish properly. You crossed your arms. 

“What.”

“You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

He scoffed and lifted his nose to the air as if the very question itself was an insult to his pride and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.  

“Uh-huh. And what’s this then?” you poked your finger into a gash and watched his moustache tilt up in remote discomfort. 

“A scratch,” he bit out. 

“A scratch you’ll be bringing to me later?”

“I will tend to it.”

Your lips pursed into a thin line. It wasn’t odd for Dwalin to shirk off his injuries, but you had grown accustomed to him presenting you with all sorts of minor scrapes and bruises similar in nature to this, and now all of a sudden he could see to it himself? 

You didn’t know whether this was a good sign or not, but gave a reluctant nod anyway to accept what he said, “Okay. Let me know if it bothers you at all.”

Much later after the rest of the beast was cooked, you raised a brow when Dwalin handed you -- well, more like _shoved_ \-- a plate with a heaping pile of roasted meat on it. There wasn’t a single vegetable to be found but honestly you were so hungry at this point, you didn’t care if it wasn’t a well-balanced meal. After all, traveling around in the wilderness didn’t really garner any rights at being picky. 

The aroma alone was mouthwatering and your stomach roared like a beast.

“Here,” he thrust it into your hands when you didn’t do anything and then stood there staring at you while everyone else lined up to fetch their share of food. Balin happened to walk by and gave your plate a strange look before his eyes swept over his brother in passing. Dwalin only stepped away with a satisfied nod after you had taken a bite and swallowed before retrieving his own plate. 

He was such an odd dwarf… 

Ever since the heroic happenstance rescue by Thorin, you knew his second in command didn’t care much for you despite all of your attempts at showing your appreciation and being friendly. If he wasn’t staring at you like you had two heads, he was grunting at you. If he wasn’t grunting at you, he was telling you to fix the minute injuries that both of you knew weren’t really a true issue to him. Dwalin was purposefully giving you a hard time and you had no idea why. Your only conclusion was that he likely saw you unfit to be with them; that your services weren’t desired nor required. 

Or maybe he was just racist against humans. Hell, you knew they hated elves with every fiber of their being so what was stopping them from throwing humans into the mix? 

At least Laketown was the end point and all these awkward, uncomfortable encounters would finally cease. Once you made it there, you could find a new place to settle and live the rest of your days in. You’ll finally be off the road and be amongst people. And… then what? Continue coming home to nobody? Wander around town healing wherever you were needed like you were doing already? Was that better than being free of stares and prejudice from one dwarf? 

Strange and confusing as it was, you didn’t have an answer to that after having grown used to Dwalin’s constant, looming presence. The thought of finally being rid of your bodyguard was both a relief and a worry. When it came down to it though, you just wanted him to be kinder to you; more trusting. Hell, a little faith wouldn’t hurt, either. He was supposed to be your bodyguard, yet he seemed to be guarding himself of you on top of guarding things _from_ you. 

With a sigh, you thought back to the other day when Dwalin and you shared an actual moment together for the first time since you’ve been with them. You wished he would act more like that instead of the usual treatment you were subject to. His blue eyes were so warm, but you were hesitant to try looking into them again. Those eyes… that beard… Dwalin was quite handsome when you really thought about it. Big muscles, manly facial hair, tattoos, and a deep voice. He was even sweet enough to help you with your boot, so you knew he wasn’t a complete ass deep down. 

Your heart gave a little flutter as you visualized the texture of his beard in your hands and batted the memory away. 

You took out the amethyst fragment that you kept in your pocket and rolled it between your fingers, recalling the events that led up to getting it out and thought how Dwalin was so hot and cold. 

Sure, he was kind enough to relieve your pain, but then he snapped at you for no reason. All just to ask a silly question. 

Your eyes narrowed at Dwalin’s broad back as you angrily stewed in your seat. Amidst your lewd thoughts, you received many longing looks once the lads happened to view the contents of your plate which -- as far as you were concerned -- looked no different than theirs. As if they didn’t already have a mountain of meat on their own to feast on, they came bugging you for yours. 

“Not finishing that, are you? Can I have it then?” Kili asked hopefully, his brown eyes glittering with want.

Instinctively, you hunched over to shield your plate from him with your arms. Just because you were peeved at Dwalin doesn’t mean that you were going to waste the food he brought in.

“Off with ya! You’ve got plenty,” Balin scolded, waving him away with his free hand. He let out a harsh curse when the shooing resulted in some of his meat to slip off of his plate and into the dirt.

You had to empathize with the loss. 

The food was good. Damn good. You had no idea what type of meat it was, but Bombur had cooked it as a roast so the flesh was oozing with juice and flavor. You offered some of plate to Balin, but he only smiled as he politely declined. Oh well, his loss. 

“This is delicious,” you moaned to Dori, who took a seat beside you -- he was one of the very few who did not bother you for your food. “And there’s so much, it must have been quite a hunt.”

“A very dangerous one, yes,” Dori tutted to Dwalin, who ignored him.

“Really? I’m impressed…” you responded sincerely, happily digging into the rest of your plate and letting out a squeal of delight. “Mmm! It’s so fatty and tasty!” 

Upon hearing your compliment, Dwalin had chucked up his belt positively swelling with pride. If you would have looked his way, you’d think he was glowing with how pleased with himself he looked. But he was just ecstatic that you enjoyed it and had approved of his efforts. He was elated to have impressed you and he couldn’t have been more proud. 

“Ah, now I see what this was all about,” Thorin said to Dwalin, inclining his head in your direction. 

Dwalin’s grin faltered slightly as he awkwardly cleared his throat unsure of what to say about it but Thorin only gave him a knowing smile and a rough, friendly clap on the shoulder. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Nori sidled up in front of you, waving a chunk of meat your way. “How’s about we trade a piece? I’ll give you… this wonderful chunk for some of _that_!”

You groaned and glared. At this point, you had been asked by almost everyone in the company. Some more than once and it was getting really annoying. 

“No! You have your own!” you clutched your plate protectively, stuffing more in your mouth and angling your body away from any attempts at thievery; trusting no one.  

Balin laughed at the spectacle and addressed everyone within earshot. 

“Careful, lads, Dwalin fixed her that plate. So, unless you want to have a go with ‘im, I suggest you leave the lass alone and let her eat her meal without pesterin’ her.”

“Oh? Did he now?” Nori twirled his beard in thought and looked over his shoulder at him but left immediately once Dwalin fixed him with a murderous stare. Dwalin then stalked your way and Dori moved over with haste so that your bodyguard could settle down beside you. You were now sandwiched between the Fundinson brothers with Dwalin’s powerful thigh pressing against yours. You moved over to give him more room until you bumped into Balin, and still Dwalin’s thigh was firmly attached to yours. On purpose, you realized. No matter how much room you gave him, Dwalin remained nestled against you.

Balin’s company was always welcome but Dwalin rarely, if ever, sat next to you when you weren’t patching him up so this was raising some questions. He sure was acting rather strange lately but at least the guys left you alone now. 

You eyed Dwaln suspiciously when you noticed he wasn’t eating and then realized why. He was busy glaring daggers at everyone who even so much as glanced in your direction. Nori finally got the message and went to sit somewhere else that was very much away. 

Balin’s gentle laughter turned your head.

“Relax, you can eat in peace now. Dwalin will see to that.”

You swirled your head back in your bodyguard’s direction, who was practically snarling at anyone who dared look over. You watched as some of the company exchanged peculiar looks, as if they came to an understanding about something. Some leaned in and whispered at each other and smirked and looked at Dwalin, only to quickly avert their gaze. Bofur gave you a wink from across the way and wagged his eyebrows. 

Suddenly, you felt like there was an inside joke circulating around the camp. And you weren’t in on it. Or maybe that was just you and your overthinking again. You shook your head as you decided to just forget about it. They have proved to be a secretive bunch and if anything was doing they would have said something. They were probably just plotting on how to steal bits of your food when you or Dwalin weren’t looking, the rascals. 

“This really is good by the way, thank you,” you said to Dwalin, trying to lighten the air and get him to relax. 

A twitch of a smile tugged at his lips. You noticed then that all of the meat on your plate was the type of meat you told him you liked and felt a warmth in your chest. This was the sweet side of him you wanted to see more of. 

As you poked around at the tasty bits on your plate, there was also another type of flesh from the beast -- an organ, no doubt -- that was especially fatty and tender. It also happened to be the piece that everyone seemed to covet and ask for the most. 

Looking at Dwalin’s plate, he didn’t appear to get any good pieces at all like his hungry fellow mates did. Geez, he was the one who hunted the damn thing! And he’s a warrior, he should have gotten a better cut! You dug your knife to cut the organ in half and held it out for Dwalin to take. 

“Here.”

A resounding gasp and a couple coughs shot through the group and it made you recoil. Was it considered rude in dwarf culture to offer your own food, or exchange food from your plate to others? As far as you could recall, they were as brash and crude as can be. Not to mention the table manners and food fights they were capable of. Yeesh, just that thought made you shiver. 

But instead of Dwalin refusing, or taking the piece off of your utensil, like you expected, he leaned in with his eyes locked on yours and ate it right off of your fork. You don’t know why you did, but you blushed. Somehow, it just felt intimate even though the offering was such an innocent gesture.  

“Stop staring!” someone chided in a hushed voice. 

“Thank you,” Dwalin said loud enough so only you heard. He was actually smiling now. A full on, unrestrained, grin that reached his eyes and your heart flipped. A hot blush spread across your cheeks as you nodded and quickly returned your focus to your plate. That smile would forever be burned into your retinas and you rubbed at your chest wondering where this fleeting spark came from. 

It was hard to ignore the occasional stare from the dwarves throughout the remainder of the night and even though you had grown used to it by now, it was even harder to ignore Dwalin’s for some reason. 

 

* * *

 

When you awoke the next morning you rolled over into something soft. An uncommon, but welcome, sensation since you didn’t own anything lined with fur. As a traveling healer, you didn’t make that much money, and skins were a heavily expensive material based on which beast’s hide it was from. Suddenly worried that perhaps you had rolled into someone else’s bedroll, you jerked away and snapped your eyes open, ready to profusely apologize to the poor, unsuspecting soul you unintentionally snuggled yourself against. 

But upon further inspection, that wasn’t the case. 

Placed beside your bedroll near your makeshift pillow was a carefully folded bundle of dark brown fur, so dark it was almost black. Based on where it was located and the care in which it was folded, it was obviously meant for you to find, but why? You ran your fingers into the fur, enjoying the coarse feel of it beneath the pads of your fingers. You held up the skin to reveal that it wasn’t just a hide of some animal, it was a beautifully sewn cloak. The outside of the cloak was thick dark fur, but on the inside there was a plain green fabric beautifully stitched in for the lining. The ties on the front were made of braided leather cord, with two fangs tied at the ends -- likely from the beast itself. As a whole garment, it was a gorgeous mixture between majestic and fierce. 

You tried it on for size and found that, although it settled rather largely on your shoulders, it fit you quite well and would definitely do the job in keeping you warm once you reached the mountain and approached the harsh winter months and cold nights. It was much too warm for day time wear, so you carefully folded it back up and placed it among your things, anxiously awaiting for the first chance to wear it. 

Your eyes roamed the sleeping dwarves, wondering who would gift this to you. It was such a thoughtful gift and you couldn't help but bite your lip to stifle the giggle of delight that threatened to escape from your smile.  

As the dwarves began to awake, you had asked them which one of them gave it to you, but they either shrugged or just flat out didn’t answer at all. Some even ditched you where you stood and -- unconvincingly -- claimed they had business to tend to before excusing themselves. 

“You’ll find out soon, I’m sure,” Bofur told you with a playful smile while you were left to pout at how unhelpful the dwarves were being. You just wanted to give a proper thank you is all! Why everyone was behaving so oddly was a complete mystery. 

Thorin’s voice had announced that it was time to set off and Bofur gave you a pat on the arm before he sauntered ahead. “Annnd we’re off! Oh, mornin’, Dwalin. My, y’look mighty chipper!” 

Dwalin grumbled from behind you but nodded a hello when you turned to look at him. 

“Did ya sleep well?” he asked. 

“I did! You?”

He shrugged and looked ahead of him, promptly shoving the impish Bofur out of both of your way in the process, “It was better once I woke up.”

 

* * *

 

By the flickering fire of camp, Dwalin sat in deep reflection. 

Erebor was drawing nearer, the dangers were growing frequent, and you and he remained as stagnant as ever in your relationship. Sure, he was able to speak to you more than he was able to in the past, but there hasn’t been any further progression. Until tonight, that is.

For all accounts, this was neither the time nor place for pursuing courting intents of any kind. Dwalin respected Thorin and their cause enough to have the sense to acknowledge that, but because the severity of the situation with Azog and getting to the mountain on time had always been top priority, Dwalin still couldn’t help but feel torn. He’d found his One on the journey, and the odds were stacked against him in just the same way that the odds were stacked against Thorin taking their home back.

On the one hand Dwalin was pleased that they were so close to reclaiming their mountain but then that only meant that Laketown was just around the corner. Dwalin would no longer be your bodyguard and he would likely never see you again. And due to the poor opportunities, he still had yet to tell you how he felt. There was one more step he had left to do before he could proceed with the verbal request. 

And tonight, the Valar above seemed to smile down on him to grant him that favor. 

Dwalin stared at the blade in his hand. A dagger he seldom used, but kept on his person primarily as a last resort in times of great need. After a deep sigh, he tossed it into the air, watching it spin before catching it by the hilt only to fling it back up. 

He was nervous. Mahal, he was _so_ nervous. But excited, too. 

Dwalin looked over to where you were and felt his heart thump wildly seeing you in that cloak he made you -- it was the first time you wore it since it was gifted. The color of the pelt had suited you well and he searched specifically for the beast of that particular shade of fur during his hunt many nights ago. It wasn’t even that chilly out either and watching you wrap the hide closely around you brought him immense satisfaction knowing you were being kept warm and comforted. 

Oin and you were discussing something while you both hunched over the book in his hands. 

 _As soon as she’s alone_ , Dwalin thought. _I’ll talk to her._

To occupy his time, he continued with the blade tossing. Occasionally inspecting it to make sure it was as sharp as it could be while deep in thought. He watched as Ori sauntered over to ask something and eventually he sat down to review the book with you. Dwalin growled and fidgeted in his seat. Whenever the three of you were together with a book, you took _forever_ ; he really didn’t know how you could stand it. And it was not making this excruciatingly long wait any easier. 

“Oh, I haven’t seen _that_ blade in quite some time!” Balin noted, taking a seat beside Dwalin. He continued tossing and catching the finely crafted weapon with ease. 

“I fancy her. The human maid.” Dwalin blurted quietly. It just slipped out; he couldn't hold it in anymore. 

Dwalin had no idea what Balin would think of this. His brother was always a sharp one, so odds are he knew exactly what type of behavior Dwalin emitted throughout the course of the journey. But he never once mentioned anything about it. Not that he had any say in who Dwalin chose to court, but nonetheless, Dwalin would have liked his approval and blessing. 

Balin paused to look over at you and then he smiled, “I thought that was the case. I’m happy for ya, laddie; you found your lass after all.” He then eyed the dagger in Dwalin’s hands. “And that’s for her, I take it?”

Dwalin exhaled, utterly relieved, and nodded as he reviewed all the fine details of his work. It was flawless and he could find no fault with it, and yet he couldn’t stop picking it apart with his eyes to make sure it was perfect enough to present to you. He forged this so long ago, not knowing why he did it, and only used it once or twice. His weapon of choice was always axes but for some reason that day he had this desire to make something else. Maybe it was always meant for you and he had his One on mind without realizing. It was no wonder he always carried around with him. Almost like a courting bead. 

“She’ll love it! It’s a fine blade for a fine maiden.”

Dwalin grunted but couldn’t hide his smile. “She’s wearin’ the cloak.”

“Aye, she’s takin’ quite a liking to the garment. I overheard her say she’s been waitin’ for the right time to done it and she may sleep with it tonight,” Balin smirked fondly. 

Dwalin went quiet. Trying to rehearse the words he wanted to say once he was able to have you to himself and coming up empty. 

He impressed you by hunting supper and you even shared the best piece of the cut with him, and by the time he finished fastening together a cloak out of its hide, you were already passed out. But he didn’t want to hang on to it all day long through the traveling, so he decided to leave it by your pillow. Sure, he would have preferred handing it to you himself, but he got to see the surprised look on your face when you found it the next morning and he didn’t regret his decision at all. 

Especially when your radiant, happy smile was the first thing he saw when he woke up and it made his heart melt. 

But now he was going to gift you with another token of his affection. However, he had no idea how to start the conversation. He groaned and rubbed a hand across his face. Why was this so hard? You’d think he’d have growing confidence after the success of his previous efforts, but nope. You still left him tongue tied and unsure of himself. 

What if he clammed up? What if he started sweating again? Worse… what if you rejected the dagger?

“It’s easier than y’think,” said Balin, as if he sensed his brother’s concern. “All it takes is ten seconds of courage. Mahal knows you’ve an excess of that to spare.”

“I feel like a bloody fool… I can take on any foe or beast with my eyes closed, but talkin’ to that lass is by far the hardest blimey thing on this blasted earth.”

Balin chuckled through his nose and shook his head, “Oh, to be young again.”

“ _Young_?” Dwalin countered. “I’m not that much younger than you, ya short n’ stout ol’ teapot!” 

“An’ yet I’m still twice as sharp than you ever will be at my age, _little_ brother.”

“I’m taller than you.”

“My beard is longer.”

They continued to indulge in a brotherly banter for a while longer when a thought occurred. Bless his beard, you were so much younger than any of the company. By all accounts, your age in human years were, technically, on par with Fili and Kili’s which in retrospect would make Dwalin old enough to be considered your father. _Would that bother you?_ Dwalin wondered. 

He thought of your hands in his beard as if it was the first time you ever felt anything like it and Dwalin grew hot at the thought. He’d love to have your hands on him again. And he’d love to have his hands on you. So young, so precious, so innocent, so... human.

The difference in race did nothing to deter Dwalin’s feelings for you, if anything, it only enhanced his innate need as your intended suitor to protect and provide.

But why would Mahal be so cruel to craft his One in such a mortal state? He knew humans only lived to be up to 90 at most, so if you two married, he wouldn’t be able to join you when you parted from this world. You and he would be alone, waiting much too long to be together again. It was a disconcerting thought indeed, but one look at your face had him reassured that it was all worth it; you were worth all the time in the world, no matter how much or how little you both had. 

After what felt like an eternity, Ori, Oin, and you disbanded for bed and Dwalin jumped to his feet. 

“Good luck,” Balin winked. 

Dwalin sheathed the dagger and followed a few paces behind you as you walked over to your bedroll. He shot a look to Gloin, who was setting up within earshot, and he sighed heavily before giving you both some space. Dwalin wished there was more privacy to do this, but he’d have to make due with what he had. 

Dwalin cleared his throat to get your attention, “Y/N.”

“Dwalin. Everything okay?”

He nodded and dragged a hand against the back of his neck and took a breath. Ugh, he was sweating already. Great. You looked on, obviously getting ready for bed and he knew he had to make it quick. His eyes softened when you adjusted the cloak on you as a blanket. 

“That’s a fine cloak ya got there,” he hinted.

You beamed and his heart quickened. He had to sit down, so he chose the spot beside you, eyeing the pelt as you ran your fingers through it. 

“I absolutely love it, but no one would tell me who it’s from. Do you know, by any chance? I wanted to thank them.”

“Yer welcome.”

Your eyes widened. “This was from _you_?” He tried not to focus on how surprised you seemed and how worried it made him feel that you would have preferred the gift from someone else. He clenched his fists and held his tongue, not knowing what else to say, so like an idiot, he opted to nod instead. 

A breath he didn’t realize he was holding escaped in a rush when your hand gripped his bicep.

“It’s beautiful, Dwalin. I’ve always wanted a fur cloak, ever since I was a little girl! I never dreamed I’d ever own one, so thank you; thank you so much,” you smiled. 

Before he knew what hit him, Dwalin was struck with the most ridiculous urge to hunt down as many different beasts as possible to offer you an entire wardrobe of pelts to choose from. One of every shade, for every season. Durin’s beard, his heart was beating way too fast for something so simple like this. He had to calm down. And focus. Just breathe. 

_And say something!_

Dwalin grunted a response, like the jacksie he was. You grinned politely and tucked your hair behind your ear as you chewed on your bottom lip. A gesture, Dwalin learned, that you only did during awkward situations. 

_Come on, lad, pull yourself together!_

“I, ah, didn’t want ya catchin’ a chill, is all. It gets cold in the mountains; don’ want ye to freeze yer wee toes off.” Mahal, he said that much louder than he intended to. 

You giggled, “I admit, I was a little concerned about that. I wish I was as hot blooded as you dwarves are; I get cold so easily it’s hard for me to stay warm on cold nights.”

Dishonorable thoughts poured into Dwalin’s head at the prospect of being the one who could keep you warm. Oh, he had many ideas of how he would do it. Many of them involved having you stay in his chambers. In a furred bed. His body heat. His body. On top of yours.

“Are you okay?”

“Hn?”

Your eyes roamed over his face, “Your face is a little red. Are you feeling all right?”

Dwalin cleared his throat again. Okay, enough stalling, it was now or never, “I’m fine. I have somethin’ for ya.” 

With all the grace of the dwarven warrior that he was, Dwalin plopped the dagger from its sheath and into your stunned hands. 

“Wow.” 

The dagger seemed perfectly balanced in your hands. The size was unspeakably perfect for you and it was weighted much heavier than it looked, but he knew you could handle it. He made it for you, after all. 

“Is it right to assume ye know how to use it?”

“Um, yeah. Just,” you gripped the weapon tightly and made a thrusting, stabbing motion. “Pierce them with the sharp side? Where their major organs are located?”

Dwalin chuckled. Oh, you were too cute. “Not quite. But ya won’t hurt anyone holdin’ it like that; yer grip is all wrong. Here, loosen your fingers like this. Aye, now move your thumb up right here against the side of the blade. Now grip it. A little tighter -- that’s it.” 

Dwalin was trying not to note how perfect your hands were in comparison to his and that you were allowing him to touch and guide you. He leaned in a little closer to assist with the proper way to hold the dagger and felt you shift against him in accommodation. He was close enough to wrap his arms around you and wondered if you would ever grant him the honor of doing so someday. Gods, he wanted to do it now. 

“Relax yer wrist, ya want the grip to be done with your hand and fingers. Good, now to use it,” he encased his large palm atop yours to move in sync with his instruction, “aim on the part of the body where yer enemy is most vulnerable then slash this way, this way, or this way.”

He moved you gently and slowly as he displayed the proper form, then reluctantly removed his hand from yours so you could try on your own.

“Like this?”

“Aye, very good.”

You smiled in giddy delight and tried it again in the same slow pace he showed you before picking up speed and then there was a calm silence as he watched you admire the blade. 

“I hope I don’t have to use it.”

By all that’s good in the world, Dwalin hoped you’d never have to use it, either. But he knew that he wouldn’t always be around to protect you and he wanted you well-learned on how to defend yourself. It was a cruel reality that he had to accept regardless of whether or not you’d agree to court him.

“I’ll see to it that ya don’t, but it’s important that you’re properly armed just in case.”

You sighed.

“I’m scared… I don’t know if I can fight off an orc with just a dagger. I’m not strong like you.” You clutched the dagger to your chest as a bairn would clutch a teddy bear to their body. You were so inexperienced for battle. The only weapons you had on you were knives, which had a dual use for medical work and self-defense, but anyone could see that you were brave when you had to be. Dwalin held nothing but contempt for gentlefolk who couldn’t survive in the wilderness but when it came to you, his One, _he_ was your protector. And Dwalin looked after his own always no matter what. 

You shot him a shy smile as you added, “But I’m glad I have you as my bodyguard. I don’t think I would have survived the woods if you all haven’t come along.”

With cojones and words he didn’t know he had, Dwalin cupped your face and turned you towards him, “Y/N, I would defend you with my very life. Bodyguard duty or no. You are so much stronger than ye think, lass, and as brave as we are. I know you can handle yerself but I couldn’t be more honored to be the one to protect ye from harm, so fear not, little maid. Yer safe with me.” 

You smiled and nodded and your eyes lifted from the dagger to meet his blue stare. You looked confused for a moment, then bashful when his eyes remained focused intently on you. Suddenly all sound fell away. 

“Dwalin…?”

He had a mind to kiss you. An irresistible urge to press his lips on yours, especially when he saw your eyes darken and your cheeks flush. But when a crisp throat clearing broke your eye contact and tore your face out of his palm, the magic he felt surging between you pulled away until all that was left was the familiar uncertain nervousness he always felt before he spoke to you. That and murder for whoever dared interrupt it. 

“Laddie, do you mind wrappin’ this up? I’d like to get some shut eye _before_ the sun rises.”

Dwalin barked a few choice words in Khuzdul at Gloin, who had the sense to keep his yap shut as he retreated back to where he was waiting in unabashed impatience. 

“We should probably get some sleep,” you agreed. “It’s pretty late.”

Well, so much for that. It was too much to hope for assuming you could pick up right where you left off. 

“Aye.” Having nothing else to say, Dwalin stood, gave you an awkward nod in paring and beat feet out of there. 

“Hey, Dwalin?” you called. 

Gloin took Dwalin trudging off as his cue to go get settled, and Dwalin had to fight with every ounce of willpower he had not to stick his boot up where the sun don't shine. There was no telling if you both would have been able to kiss then, but the fact that Gloin ruined the very opportunity and potential itself put Dwalin in a quiet rage. 

“Yeah?” he barked, immediately regretting it when he saw the uncomfortable look it pulled from your face. Mahal, every time he took a step forward to you, he had to go and sully it. Giving Gloin a very pointed look, Dwalin continued more delicately, “What is it, lass?”

“Could you teach me more about using the dagger tomorrow?”

If it meant spending more time with you? Absolutely! But the likelihood that both of you were able to get any more “alone” time from now until then was very slim to none and as much as he wanted to spend time with you, he did have additional duties for his king and kin along with being your bodyguard that he couldn't bring himself to shirk. Until the deed was done and the kingdom was won, Dwalin had to work out a balance between what he had to do and what he wanted to do. But he would make it work, no matter the cost. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You nodded, “Okay. Thank you again for the cloak -- and dagger -- they’re wonderful.”

Dwalin’s chest swelled with pride at a job well done. His advances were a success, now all he had to do was proceed to the verbal request to finally surmount this tricky situation he landed in. He prayed to Mahal he could do it in time before Laketown, that he had enough strength to sit you down and bear his heart to you. Much like his king, Dwalin was also on a very tight schedule. Whether or not you agreed to be his or not, once you reached Laketown, you would travel with them no longer. 

The only difference in the outcome of that was whether or not Dwalin would be able to see you again. And by the stars above, he couldn’t bear the thought of a life without you in it. But time was running out and he had to act fast or forever be plagued by the thought of his cowardice being the culprit of denying himself to you.

Dwalin bowed his head in gratitude and then straightened, “Get some rest, I’ll see ya in the morning.”  

As the night pressed on and gave way to the first light of the sun, Dwalin had no way of knowing just how long until his moment would finally arrive. 

It wasn’t until a particularly terrifying, dangerous battle that Dwalin felt the need to come clear. 

The look on your face would have haunted him for the rest of his life. If he hadn’t gotten to you in time, you’d have been sliced in two by that wretched filth of an orc. Dwalin went on a murdering spree; he saw red and rage well after the battle was won. As soon as the company was safe and everyone was there and accounted for, more or less unscathed, Dwalin beelined in your direction. 

Now was the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh, I'm relatively pleased with this chapter, but I hope you all liked it! I think this might very well have another chapter or two left before the story concludes! Next up is a BofurxBilbo request, but I'll work on Dwalin's next chapter after that oneshot. 
> 
> So, what’ll it be, lovelies? What type of ending would you like to have with Dwalin: A fluffy ending? Angst? Angsty fluff? Somethin' more spicy? 
> 
> There's so many paths to choose from and I'm not sure how to wrap up the story or what type of ending you'd like to see. Let me know! :)


	6. Since Always (BilboxBofur)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for @Incogneet0 who wanted some Bofur and Bilbo fluff/fluffy smut! I hope you like it!
> 
> Bilbo thought time away from Erebor would help him get over his feelings for a particular dwarf he left behind, but they only seemed to intensify. And when a surprise visit gives him the opportunity to confess his feelings in person, it's hard for him to keep his emotions at bay. And his wandering mind. And hands...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: A bit NFSW and implied smut.

After the clock chimed four, Bilbo had already prepared a fresh pot of tea. Twenty minutes in, he’d already finished his first cup and was about to dedicate some time to continue writing his book. 

There was a strange comfort in the predictability of a reliable, orderly way of life and he found solace in sticking to a schedule. Not even the past quest could shake that old habit up. But as fate would have it, there was always something trying to deter him from his plans either by interrupting or stealing it from him altogether. 

So, the moment the doorbell rang, Bilbo let out an exasperated sigh and threw a glare in its general direction. What part of “Do Not Disturb Under Any Circumstances!” on the sign of his front gate did people not understand? Oh well, it wasn’t any of his concern to indulge those who couldn’t follow basic instructions. 

Did everyone think his signs were for show? Perhaps it was a tasteless joke; some young hobbits who took pleasure in ruffling Bilbo’s easily ruffled feathers. Valar above knows he was antagonized every time he went about town, which he made sure to do as infrequently as possible. 

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Bilbo dipped his quill into the ink pot. After tapping the excess off, he hunched over the parchment and continued writing his sentence just as the doorbell rang again followed by a chipper knock. 

His shoulders bunched while he grumbled to himself before the flustered hobbit shot back in his chair and his eyes fired arrows at the door, “Can’t you read?!” he shouted. “I’m quite busy, if you don’t mind! No visitors! Now good _day_!”

“But I came all this way! Can’t you make just one exception?” A muffled, familiar voice called back. 

Bilbo froze. Was that…? No, it couldn’t be. But it sure sounded like... The hobbit practically tripped over his feet hurrying his way to the door and didn’t even bother straightening his hair or clothes before he flung the thing open.  

“Ah, finally! Hello, Master Burglar!” 

Bilbo was fixed in place but quickly recovered by breaking out into a wide grin. “Bofur! Oh, what a wonderful surprise!”

It most certainly was. And completely unexpected, as was the dwarven standard, apparently. Bofur smiled his infamous cheeky smile and bent his knees into a deep, friendly bow. 

“My, it’s so good to see you! Please, please come in,” Bilbo added, avidly waving him inside. 

“Thank ya kindly -- it was gettin’ chilly out.”

Bofur tipped his hat in thanks and strode on in, shedding off his top coat and looking around for a place to put it. Bilbo flushed in embarrassment and quickly took the heavy garment from him before draping it across a nearby chair with care. 

“Doin’ some redecorating?” Bofur asked, inclining his head to the very different state of the foyer. Considering how Bilbo was still in the process of getting all of his belongings back from the auction held during his long absence, his home was much more barren than it had been since the dwarves had last seen it. It looked like he’d just moved in.

Bilbo had retrieved his more important necessities almost immediately, along with all the other remaining auction pieces, but it was becoming such a chore in trying to find out who had what, especially when they were so apt to keep hold of them. It didn’t help that Bilbo felt no rhyme or reason to pay for his own stuff back.

“Not exactly…” Bilbo sighed and scratched the back of his golden curls. “Bothersome situation with equally bothersome neighbors is all. It’s a work in progress.” 

Bofur nodded wistfully and didn’t press further. “Aye. Not too shabby, though, all this space. Welp, I hope I’m not too late!” 

Bilbo paused in thought and his brows narrowed in confusion.

“Late for… what, exactly? Oh no. No, don’t tell me there’s another meeting! I wasn’t told! A-and I’m not prepared for company! I’ve no food, no proper seating… oh goodness--” Bilbo began rushing about in circles, trying to find which room needed the most tidying while asking how many more visitors there’ll be and Bofur only chuckled at him, turning his body to watch the hobbit scurry from this way and that.

As Bilbo ran past for the third time, the dwarf reached out a hand and placed it on Bilbo’s shoulder to bring him to a halt. 

“For _tea_ , Bilbo. You said tea’s at four. I tried the handle but the door was locked, so I had to ring in.”

The hobbit exhaled a huge sigh of relief and Bofur laughed and gave a good, friendly jostle on Bilbo’s shoulder. 

Honestly, Bilbo was surprised that Bofur remembered. He told his friends that forever ago, it seemed. He often looked back on the day he left Erebor with bittersweet reminiscence; he had wanted to make a hasty retreat, unwilling to draw out a long goodbye or offer one at all. A clean break was what Bilbo wanted. The hobbit’s heart couldn’t bear any more sorrowful farewells. Not with the loss of Thorin, Fili and Kili, and with having to leave his friends that he grew to care for so deeply behind on top of that. 

By the Valar above, the look on Bofur’s face when Bilbo left had haunted him to this very day and was the exact reason why he kept the goodbye short and sweet. It completely broke his heart. But seeing Bofur now, after all this time, was like the thaw of winter giving way to spring. Life bloomed in his chest, his heart opening up once more with the promise of rekindled hope. 

Bilbo smiled and laughed back, swallowing the small pitter-patter of butterflies building up in him as he gazed into Bofur’s jolly face, “Not at all. Come, I’ll make a fresh pot.”

 

* * *

 

“And it was right at that moment that I knew I made a huge mistake, but it was too late to do anythin’ fer it.”

“How in the world… well, what happened after?”

Bofur pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the memory, drawing out the suspense. But then he smirked, as if even though it made for a good story well after all was said and done, he still looked back to that day with a sense of unquestionable antipathy.

“Ugh, long story short, I got roped into being a barmaid for that pub and no magic in this sweet world will get me to divulge the rest of _that_ mess. So, how’ve you been?” He added quickly. 

“...bar _maid_?”

Oh my, that was quite the devilish smile. 

“No magic on this sweet earth, my dear Bilbo. None whatsoever.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. Only Bofur. His mouth always had a way of getting into some kind of scrape. It wasn’t a secret that the guy could be wild in social settings, like most of his kin. Put together, they become an overbearing rowdy lot that could blow any household or establishment asunder, but by themselves, they could also make great company. Or maybe that was just Bofur. 

He had a way of making you feel warm inside and brought a special light with him wherever he went. And Bilbo was hopelessly drawn to it like a moth to a flame and couldn’t fault anyone for possibly feeling the same. But in retrospect, Bofur’s mouth was also a beacon of trouble at times. 

Despite it, of all the dwarves in the company, Bofur was most assuredly the one Bilbo became the fondest of. Whether it was his optimistic outlook on any and every possible situation, his charming personality, or perhaps how he was the first to get close to Bilbo and stuck by him every step of the way, made felt his heart soar whenever the dwarf was near. He felt safe and cared for and everything was just… right. 

Though Bilbo had no way of knowing how cold and empty he would feel inside after being apart from him for so long. Or that he would miss him as much as he did -- the hidden feelings of what he thought was gratitude but ended up being more serious surmounted quite inexplicably during the quest and Bilbo was certain time and distance would heal that after he said goodbye. But life didn’t seem the same after Erebor for a multitude of different reasons. Just as Gandalf said, Bilbo Baggins wouldn’t be the same hobbit if he managed to return home. But this wasn’t at all what he thought it would be like when he finally made his way back. 

Bilbo returned to an empty, gutted home and it was like a reflection of himself that was almost too fresh to face. In some strange way, he wasn’t that upset with the barrenness or loss of belongings at the time. He could relate to all the little things that brought life to his home suddenly gone, leaving behind a shell of what once was.  

All because he had left his heart in Erebor, ready to live his life as he did before he went on the journey and knowing that it was highly unlikely that he would see any of them ever again. Besides, what reason would they have? What reason would he? Bilbo had accomplished his purpose. He wasn’t going to see them -- or Bofur -- again and… the hurt in knowing that stung him endlessly. 

That was until he received the first letter. 

A letter from someone he least expected: Bofur. Initially, Bilbo didn’t intend to open it or reply, but the urge to be close to the dwarf again in any way possible, even through the exchange of letters, was enough to have him tearing into the envelope, eating up word after word, letter after letter as they came. His feelings weren’t going away because he was purposefully fueling them by indulging in their notes to one another. But this would have to do even if Bilbo never saw him face to face again. 

There was no way he could divulge how he felt over a letter. Not with something as meaningful and special like this. So, he kept them under tight lock and key.

And now… the dwarf Bilbo left his heart with was here, standing right in front of him in his home. He could now hear his outlandish tales straight from his mouth. He could touch him and see him. Bilbo didn’t know whether this was a cruel turn of events for his harbored affections or a joyous opportunity. He decided to run with the latter. As much as he loved receiving Bofur’s letters, he’d much rather see the dwarf in the flesh. 

It was an odd comfort seeing that Bofur looked exactly the same as from when he knew him in all regards except for his attire. Though he still sported his scarf and unique hat, Bofur cleaned up quite nicely in his fetching leather and gold-embroidered vest and matching trousers. His tunic was a complementary color to the leathers and it all suited him well -- it as obvious he modeled the garb to match his hat and scarf and Bilbo found it adorable and fitting. And he smelled just the same, too. A pleasant combination of the exotic blend he smoked in his pipe and sunshine. 

Bilbo welcomed the scent into his lungs with a deep inhale, never dreaming he’d ever be able to bask in it again. 

“Fair enough. I’m working on a personal project,” the hobbit answered mildly. 

“Oh?” Bofur snagged another pastry and munched away. Since the water was ready for the brew, Bilbo poured their teas and piled on the necessities onto a tray to bring to the table to continue on their discussion. Bofur aptly stuck the half-eaten pastry in between his teeth and grabbed the tray from him, holding it out of reach of Bilbo’s prying hands and waited for him to lead the way. 

“Yes, I’m quite excited. I started as soon as I got back home, but I imagine it won’t be finished for quite a few years yet.” 

Bilbo grabbed a jar of cookies on the way and both of them made their way to the dining table and sat down. Yes, that book that regaled his adventure with the dwarves would very much take up a good portion of his life to complete. There was so much to record; drawings to sketch, maps to draw...

Bofur’s response came out as a muffled a buzzing sound with the pastry still being lodged in his mouth but the mumbled words would soon be clarified once they got settled at the table. 

“You never mentioned that in yer letters! Well, come on! Don’t be stingy with me, what is it?” 

Bilbo watched Bofur pull a flask out of his inner pocket and poured the contents into his tea and offered some to him. When he shook his head in obvious distaste, Bofur gave a sheepish shrug and sat back in his chair to indulge in his drink, perfectly at home. 

“That’s… private.”

Bofur pouted. “Not even a hint then?”

“Barmaid.”

The pout quickly melted into a heart stopping smile that showed his teeth, “Oooh, ye got me there, lad. All right, I won’t pry.” He finished his tea in one gulp and helped himself to more treats before seeing to clean out his pipe. The same one he always had on him, Bilbo noted offhand. 

Bilbo poured more tea into Bofur’s cup and passed a small plate containing sugar cookies to compliment the flavor. The dwarf set the pipe aside and scarfed one down before leaning his elbows on the table to watch Bilbo’s precise ministrations in making his own tea with fond appreciation. Crumbs scattered everywhere and clung to Bofur’s loopy moustache while the dwarf chewed. 

It astounded Bilbo how dwarves could be so fussy about their beards and hair and yet be horrendously messy eaters. But at least Bofur didn’t start any food fights and volunteered to help him clean up. Bilbo eyed the crumbs clinging on the moustache just outside of his lips. He didn’t know why he felt the need to wipe it off for him, but he did. It was an oddly domesticated temptation that he couldn’t recall ever feeling before. 

“What’re you lookin’ at, hmm?” Bofur smirked, cocking a dark eyebrow.

Caught red handed, Bilbo’s face heated and he shook his head. “N-nothing! You just… ah, you’ve got quite a bit of stowaways in your beard there.” 

“Oh, these? I’m savin’ ‘em for later!” 

Bilbo’s breath hitched watching Bofur’s tongue flick out to capture the nearest crumb into his mouth and refocused on his tea. Anything to distract him from that mouth. “Well then, anything exciting brewing over in the mountain that I don’t know about?”

Bofur hummed. 

“Nothin’ too new since last I wrote. Dain is makin’ progress on the rebuilding and draggin’ his feet making a treaty with Mirkwood. Doesn’t help that Bard had joined forces with the elves and have been tag teamin’ the poor lad. Dain, as you well know, is not one to be beatin’ into submission easily. If at all.”

Having only met the dwarf once, he still left a very strong, lasting impression in terms of establishing character. 

“But wouldn’t an alliance be beneficial to everyone involved? He could reestablish trading posts between Dale and Mirkwood and open the road in the forest to cut down the time and perils of merchant travels going the treacherous way around. It’d save him coin in the long run.”

Bofur shrugged. “Coin, yes. But it won’t save him face. Ye need to understand his position, Bard publicly blasted Thorin to the people of Dale, and Dain did not take a likin’ to that when he heard about it from the lads. And Thranduil had done our kin wrong more times than not: you already know what happened when Smaug appeared. And when he threw us in the dungeons on our quest, he demanded a treasure from the mountain whilst refusing to aid in retrieving it -- a ‘fool’s errand’ that he saw fine to sacrifice dwarven lives for, but not his own kin. And after all that, he asks for his arse to be kissed? Dain would rather go bald than bend over backwards in favor of that dagger-eared mongrel; he’d lose every drop of respect of his kingdom, regardless if it were fer the better. It’s bad form.”

Bilbo scoffed, swirling the tiny spoon in his cup in a clockwise drawl, “There were enough lives lost of both elves and dwarves alike littered out there. Sounds to me he’s just being stubborn and prioritizing an old grudge rather than seeing the big picture… ah, forgive me, it’s not my place to judge or make these sorts of calls. Perhaps a liaison would be better suited than Dain speaking to Thranduil himself. I’m sure they both could come to an agreement with the right terms applied and the proper delivery.” 

Bilbo flushed at the way Bofur smirked fondly at him. 

“Maybe, maybe not. Y’know, you’d provide an excellent voice of council. Ya sure ye don’t want a place on the board? I’m sure I could get ya in there. Mahal knows we could use third party perspective when it comes to formulating alliances and it seems you’ve already got a plan of action.” 

Bilbo quickly waved that offer away, “No, no! I’m better off here. There isn’t any reason for me to live at the mountain anyway, outside my completed services, I don’t really have a place among you anymore--” Bilbo stopped short and frowned. A notable silence stretched between them.

What would life be like for the hobbit if Thorin had lived? Would he have been welcomed into the mountain or would he have still chosen the Shire? It was anyone’s guess. With Dain ruling Erebor, it wouldn’t make sense for Bilbo to live there let alone visit since he didn’t form a friendship with the dwarf. He barely even saw him on the battlefield. 

Bofur turned his downcast gaze towards the window. The sun was just starting to descend behind the bountiful hills of the Shire, filling the room in a pink and golden hue. A fire would need to be started soon before the house was delved into darkness.

Bilbo noted the somber look on Bofur’s face, not liking it in the slightest, but then he turned to the hobbit with a forced smile and there was a sudden shift in mood. “Do you... miss him?”

“Pardon?”

“Thorin. Ye both were pretty close,” Bofur clarified softly. 

“I do miss him. He was my friend, after all.” 

Bofur nodded thoughtfully, avoiding his eye and fiddled with his pipe that he still hadn’t cleaned out fully with mock interest. 

Bilbo sighed, recounting his travels with the uncrowned king. He was brash, forceful, stubborn, had a temper that could rival the mightiest of storms, and yet he could also be so warm and caring. Bilbo never would have thought he’d be welcomed into the fold, but like most things, it took time to build and maintain the trust he eventually earned. Much like planting the acorn Bilbo brought home: With time, care, and love, soon it would sprout into a strong tree. 

Goodness, the beginning weeks with the dwarves were harsh and unforgiving. Had it not been for Bofur’s constant reassurance and presence, Bilbo might have hightailed it out of there much too soon. But that was Bofur, always looking out for him and steadying him on his feet. 

Bilbo decided to lighten the mood by changing topics and Bofur was only too happy to comply, quickly jumping in to tell another tale of Bifur getting reacquainted with his family after decades of that foreign language syndrome he suffered from, then leaping into the affairs of what’s been going on with his brother, who was expecting yet another child in his ever-growing family.  

Bilbo nodded along and listened and asked questions when appropriate, more so enjoying Bofur’s company than the stories he was telling. 

“And yourself? How are you fairing?” Bilbo asked once Bofur finished. 

Bofur winked, “Me? Why, I’m enjoyin’ the rich life, a’course! Got more coin than I know what to do with sometimes. I socked most of it away. Oh! Have ye seen these boots?” He unceremoniously thunked the heel against the side of the table and Bilbo blanched, reaching out in consternation as the neat freak in him had a mini panic attack. But Bofur remained right where he was, showing off the best that his gold could buy in terms of footwear. 

He finally lowered his leg after he finished showing them off, either completely oblivious or selectively ignoring Bilbo’s paled face. 

“What brought you to Bag End? Your last letter said you were headed out to do some exploring to merchant the jewels you mined over the years?”

“Aye! The Shire just happened to be on the way to the venue for the owner I’m meetin’, so I decided to pass on through to say hello to an old friend and get some free tea. Hope ya don’t mind. You did mention that we could stop by any time, after all.”

That made Bilbo smile, “Yes, of course! You’re always welcome to my home, Bofur. That will never change.”

So this was just a temporary passing. Bilbo didn’t want Bofur to leave. Not yet, not when he just got here. But as the sun continued to set, he knew that eventually Bofur would need to leave for the venue. Probably forever. But maybe he could try to stall for more time-- 

As the clock chimed six, Bilbo found his opening and tried to appear as casual as possible, “My goodness, I’ve no idea where the time went! Would you like to stay for dinner? I’m preparing a roast with potatoes, biscuits, gravy, cheese bread--”

Bofur held up his hand and Bilbo shut his mouth, curling in on himself at the potential shutdown but relaxed after he spoke.  

“Lad, ye had me at dinner.”

 

* * *

 

Bilbo didn’t want to get his hopes up, but it seemed clear that Bofur shared the same views of not wanting to leave either. They were having such a good time. To Bilbo’s delight, they made a really great pair in the kitchen; Bofur assisted him while he prepared supper and helped him clean on the way so they didn’t have a mountain of dishes to tend to afterward. 

As dwarf appetites rivaled that of hobbits, they made an exuberant amount of food that they were able to polish most of and even Bilbo joined in the ale drinking when Bofur brought out the mugs for the both of them. Bilbo had packed the leftover food for the travels for when he left and set it aside, trying not to think about when he would need to part. 

They talked, joked, laughed, teased, sat close at one point, and wrung out as much time as possible. But as the ale wore off and the table was cleared, Bofur began inching his way towards the door, and that’s when Bilbo knew it was time to say goodbye. 

And it was a growing dread that became ever present at each chime of his clock. 

“Well, I should be headin’ off then; before the inn closes.” Bofur sighed. 

Taking a shot in the dark, but feeling especially courageous, Bilbo declared, “You could stay here!” 

Bofur seemed surprised but smiled regardless, not opposed to the idea in the slightest, “Ye sure? I wouldn’t want to impose any more than I have.”

“I insist. Besides, it’s late and the venue is much closer to Bag End than the inn. Stay.”

Yeah, he had to stop sounding so desperate. He couldn’t very much hold him hostage; he’d have to let Bofur go at some point. He was starting to look like a fool and no doubt Bofur would tease him relentlessly for it. But he couldn’t in good conscience kick Bofur out considering how good friends they were. Besides, Bilbo didn’t want Bofur to leave, he just got here! And it’s been much too long. There was no telling when he’d see him again. 

And with that, he still had yet to tell him how he felt. It would be better to do that in the morning anyhow, bilbo figured. After all this time, Bilbo would finally come clean -- in person. And if Bofur didn’t return his feelings… well, he’d worry about that tomorrow. 

Bofur chuckled, “It’d be an honor, Bilbo. Thank you.”

Bilbo rejoiced internally. Brilliant plan! However, being so obsessed with the idea that Bofur was staying longer, he overthought one tiny problem: the sleeping arrangement.

He didn't have a couch or comfy chairs that would suit as a good place to rest in and after Bilbo bathed, they both stood in the doorway of Bilbo’s bedroom and eyed the single bed in deliberation. A thought seemed to bloom between both of them.

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” Bofur ventured. 

“I’ve no problem with it.”

Oh, he so didn’t, but it was still going to be difficult for him. And Bilbo couldn’t anticipate just how difficult it would be. 

While he got into his pajamas, he did his best not to watch Bofur when he undressed right in front of him without a care in the world. Or stop his eyes from wandering over the expanse of the dwarf’s lean, muscular back and when he saw to undoing his braids to let his dark, wild hair fall free down his masculine shoulders. Bofur was left in nothing but his under trousers and he was completely breathtaking, even as he flopped down on the bed and beckoned to Bilbo. 

“Well, don’t just stand there. Come to bed, _honey dearest_!” he jested with a charming wink and an air kiss, patting the spot beside him. He laughed at Bilbo’s flustered reaction. He knew his face was as red as his tomato garden as he settled in next to him.

The hobbit was now laying right beside him, shoulder to shoulder, in uncomfortable silence. 

Bofur had never joked with him like that before, with pet names. But as Bilbo thought on it, in relative silence, he wondered if the dwarf had been throwing him signals of any kind that he might have missed. Bofur had sat so close to him earlier, even slinging his arm around his shoulders. But then again, Bofur was a personable, affectionate guy. Maybe he was just being friendly and since Bilbo had feelings for him he was reading too much into it.  

Good heavens... if he _was_ flirting with him, Bilbo hoped he offered the corresponding signals back. Flirting was never his forte, especially in a master flirt's presence. Bofur's smiles and charm wormed their way into his mind, blown to unbearable longing with said dwarf lying right next to him and Bilbo's body began to heat up.

Why was it so stuffy in here? Did Bofur find it stuffy? Yeah, he should open a window. But that would involve getting up and he didn’t want to do that. Maybe Bofur wouldn’t notice Bilbo sweating. Or the flush he had on his cheeks. Or that he was struggling internally for wanting so badly to touch hold his hand. Even though he wanted to do so in the morning, Bilbo wanted to tell him how he felt now before he exploded from nerves. Who was he kidding… he wanted to tell him all night long, but now that they were lying so close, his head was spinning. 

He was painfully aware of every little movement and sound and wondered if Bofur noticed, too. He had to know something was up. The dwarf became quiet as a mouse the moment they both got into bed together and inched closer until they touched shoulders, which was highly uncharacteristic of him. 

He heard Bofur gently clear his throat. 

What if Bilbo making _him_ uncomfortable? Oh dear. The worry of that thought. The fear. And the longing and pain at being so close yet as distant as the stars.

“Bilbo.”

Bilbo froze. “Ah, yes?”

“Is there somethin’ on yer mind?”

“What? No, I’m just finding it hard to get comfortable,” he replied dismissively. He felt a shift beside him and looked over to see that Bofur had turned to face him. He was lying on his side propped up on his elbow with his dark eyes surveying him closely. His accented voice was low.

“I don’t mind sleepin’ on the floor or somewhere else. Yer tossin’ about like bacon on a pan and I’m getting the feelin’ it’s because of me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll do no such thing. I’m just not used to sharing a bed is all, it’s nothing to do with you. S-so, goodnight.”

With that Bilbo turned his back on Bofur, and the conversation, and snuggled deeper into his covers as he tried to ignore the fact that there was a dwarf in his bed. A shirtless dwarf. Eru, Bilbo was sharing his bed with someone else for the first time. With someone he happened to find quite attractive. He smelled _so good_ , too...

There was another shift as the mattress dipped.

“Bilbo?” Bofur’s voice was a velvety purr and his breath was right next to his ear. Bilbo did his best to suppress a shiver, but failed miserably. All he could think about was that Bofur was much too close to him. Close enough that if he scooted back, he’d be flush against that naked chest and he felt tingles break out all over his body, hardening up. He gulped, wondering what that might feel like. Knowing he’d enjoy it. A lot. 

By Valar, he could feel the imposing heat radiating off of the dwarf like a furnace, warming his back with the promise of comfort and the potential for burn if his feelings went unrequited. Bilbo tensed, trying not to allow his body to angle towards him like it was trying to do of its own accord. _Touch me_ , he pleaded silently. _Touch me_. 

Yes?” he squeaked.

“Yer hoggin’ the covers.”

Breath escaped him in a rush. He felt oddly disappointed, but what was he expecting Bofur to say? 

“Sorry.” 

Without looking, Bilbo held out more of the covers and thrust it behind him and felt Bofur pull the material across them. And... that was it. Silence descended once more, but it was louder than anything else that Bilbo could hear. 

Never had he had such a hard time falling asleep in his own bed before. The sound of steady breathing could be heard from behind him with an occasional sigh. Bofur shifted every now and again, as if he too was experiencing difficulties sleeping, but Bilbo dared not peek, no matter what his instincts demanded he do. 

He didn’t trust himself. If he peeked, if he looked at him, he would cave. And he didn’t want to ruin this. He wanted the moment to last; to last at least until he mustered the courage to tell him his heart.

Ugh, this was going to be a long night. 

 

* * *

 

Bilbo woke to the feeling of sunlight wrapped around him. A warm, cozy embrace on a wonderfully cool morning that smelled like exotic pipe weed, bathing oils, and… dwarf? Wait, this wasn’t sunlight...

Not remembering when he fell asleep, Bilbo's eyes blinked open and he groggily took in his surroundings, finding that he was against a warm, hard surface, gently rising and falling in tandem with his sleeping guest’s breathing. 

This was not his pillow. 

Bilbo’s face was nestled against a muscular chest and his hand was laying upon coarse chest hair. Bofur’s arms were wrapped loosely around him as if he turned over to face Bofur and they both fell into the embrace sometime last night. Bilbo was both panicked and pleased. His head rested just under Bofur’s furred chin and he breathed in his scent. 

Going by the deep breaths and occasional snore, Bofur was still out like a light. With care, Bilbo slowly sifted his hand up Bofur’s chest feeling the steady beating of his heart beneath his palm. 

_This is really nice,_ Bilbo thought with a shy smile. 

He quite enjoyed waking up wrapped up in Bofur’s arms while he slept so soundly. He nuzzled closer, savoring the very masculine scent of male dwarf in his nose. Bofur was twitching slightly as he slept, lost in a dream. Bilbo could feel his blunt finger tips dig into his back and then a subtle leg jerk against his thigh. 

Yes, Bilbo decided that he liked this very much. He couldn’t help but smile to himself and become endeared at every twitch, snort, and snore while being nestled this close. Since the quest was long since over, no doubt everyone adopted more ease in resting; finding no need to be on the alert for incoming danger of any kind. It took Bilbo a long time to adjust back into a normal sleeping routine; he woke frequently several nights before he finally adapted. And although he had trouble falling asleep again last night, he woke up suspiciously refreshed this morning. 

Suddenly, Bofur grunted something incomprehensible and adjusted his position from his side to flopping onto his back, pulling Bilbo with him with surprising strength so that the hobbit was now awkwardly straddling Bofur’s right leg while his back was being held down by Bofur’s dead weighted arm. 

There was an unmistakable bulge in Bofur’s under trousers that had Bilbo blushing fiercely up to his ears; the hobbits thigh was right underside of it. Out of impulse of the shocking situation, he quickly sat upright and Bofur’s arm slid off of him and flopped heavily at his side. It was a surprise he was still dead asleep. 

Oh, my... he was so...

Well, having lived in the wilderness with the dwarves, Bilbo also bathed with them. The dwarves were shameless in their nudity, running and tackling each other and playing without a care while Bilbo did his best to remain modest and ignore their "dwarven hammers" from whizzing by in his line of sight. But he still garnered flashes of their lads, which were impressive even while flaccid -- and much different from Bilbo's, at least. But never had he seen one erect. 

Something primal and deep stirred inside of Bilbo. Something he didn't understand. 

He adjusted his position and had a logical mind to carefully extract himself but… another part of him wanted to stay. And he wanted to touch him. 

He wanted to touch him _there_ and he hated himself for it while Bofur was in this unknowing, unconsenting state. Bilbo watched as the massive bulge throbbed and pulsed every now and then all the while Bofur continued to snore away, oblivious to the hunger growing inside his host who was mounted against him.

This wouldn’t do. This was improper. Dishonorable. He should move away. Like, now. 

But he looked on in awe of the specimen lying below him admiring every detail in this private moment. Bofur’s wide chest rose and fell deeply, his dark chest hair was splashed across his pectorals and thinned to a line as wide as Bilbo’s thumb before it disappeared into his trousers. He had gained some weight since Bilbo last saw and he looked healthy. 

Bofur’s lashes were full on his cheeks, his moustache still expertly curled, with his full lips agape as he breathed, and his hair a dark halo on his pillow. He looked so peaceful. And here Bilbo was, a so-called respectable hobbit feeling the stirring of the beginning of his own arousal with no intention of moving off of his guest. 

He adjusted his hips so that Bofur wouldn’t feel him, should he stir, but in the process, Bofur only clenched at the sheets and uttered a sleepy moan and his cock strained further in his trousers while Bilbo’s sprung into contact with Bofur’s thigh. 

Bilbo gulped. His body had responded in a rush and there was no stopping it from happening. With a shaky breath, Bilbo battled between the powerful urge to grind and getting off of him. Why was he reacting like this? He felt drunk...

Bilbo had to get off of him before he woke up and found him like that. 

But just as he started detaching himself, Bofur’s brows furrowed slightly and he let out a soft whine and gave signs of stirring that only stopped once Bilbo remained close. Each time Bilbo tried to leave, Bofur’s sleeping form would protest and Bilbo would fear that he’d wake, so he decided to stay right there. Feeling like the filth he was, the curious hobbit slid a hand up from Bofur’s slightly rounded stomach up to his pectoral. Bofur’s heart thumped steadily underneath his palm. The dwarf’s chest expanded as he took in a deep breath and exhaled shakily when Bilbo gave a squeeze. 

Bilbo frowned and started moving away from him again, which only served to distress Bofur in his sleep once more. Bilbo quickly settled back against him by straddling his thigh, earning a sleepy grunt of approval from the slumbering dwarf.

Okay, well, staying atop him was all that was keeping him asleep, it seemed.

Boy, this was quite a dangerous gamble, but Bilbo decided to experiment, letting his fingertips come into contact with different sections of Bofur’s skin as he drank in his responses. Then he pinched an already pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The dwarf hissed in a breath, angling his hips up. He was fully erect now, impressively so. Bilbo could make out the shape of him clearly against the thin fabric of his trousers and he throbbed violently in his own. 

He swallowed and stared shamelessly and reached out wonderingly, then snatched his hand back.

Good heavens, he had to stop this. What was the matter with him?

This was so inappropriate and unbecoming of a respectable, well-mannered hobbit that he was brought up as. Why was he reacting this way? It was like he was bewitched somehow. When it came down to the logistics of it, Bilbo was overcome with lust; overcome with his own arousal; overcome with the primal command to please and release. And then it clicked: Hobbits tended to be quite fierce lovers when they were horned up and around their special ones. For males, the erection never went away until satisfaction was reached, which explained why hobbit families were always so large. Bilbo had no love interests in the Shire, and thus had never felt that strong need to mate with anyone. But now that his love interest was lying shirtless, and aroused, underneath his body, Bilbo had to fight the biological makeup of his hobbit nature to claim what was his. 

And the sounds Bofur elicited alone were just utterly _delicious_ and did nothing to quell the desire. It was such a complex situation: Bofur was aroused in his sleep and seemed close to waking if Bilbo so much as moved an inch away from him, Bilbo was experiencing that acclaimed hobbit urge to mate for the first time ever with someone he was in love with and -- from what he’s been told -- the urges would only get stronger and stronger until he couldn’t bear it any more, but all the while that someone was a _friend._ A sleeping friend!

He had a decision to make. 

And so, he decided that as much as he wanted to, he wouldn’t touch Bofur intimately. Not without his permission. But he _would_ touch him elsewhere. And that is exactly what he did. 

Bofur arched, rolled, and responded organically under Bilbo’s touch. It was becoming apparent that Bofur was having an erotic dream that seemed to be in sync, or encouraged, with Bilbo’s touches. He wondered who it was about, and fantasized that it might be him. It didn’t take Bilbo long to start panting, his own erection was demanding to be touched, but this was all about Bofur. 

As Bilbo lightly raked his nails down Bofur’s chest, the dwarf growled in response, his hips taking up a familiar rhythm of the act of sex and Bilbo had to stop when he saw a dampened spot forming under Bofur’s trousers. He felt his pupils expand at the sight. 

As Bilbo’s erection pressed firmly against Bofur’s thigh, Bilbo’s eyes clenched shut as his body was begging him to finish, to claim him and finish inside. This ache wouldn’t go away until he did. Bilbo inhaled a shaky breath and let out a soft moan, feeling utterly helpless.

Bofur’s eyes suddenly shot open and he sat up quickly, breathing hard, with Bilbo immediately flinging himself off of him and rolling over on his back at the same time. Bofur appeared to be in a daze and he looked around in momentary confusion before realizing where he was. Blinking and wiping away the sleep from his eyes, he then glanced down at his erection and finally over at Bilbo’s beet red face and awkwardly adjusted his hands in his lap before grinning impishly. 

“Ah, erm, good mornin’.”

Bilbo also tried to adjust himself nonchalantly, while pretending he was also just waking, “Y-yes, good morning.” He yawned, hoping it would look convincing. 

Bofur was notably uncomfortable and Bilbo felt sickened with himself. Did Bofur know what he did? Good gods, what was he thinking? If he’d had kept going until Bofur finished--

“So... did you sleep well?” Bofur asked distantly, not looking at him at all. 

“Mhm, yes. I did. And yourself?” he responded as casually as he could. _Dishonorable, incorrigible, despicable little hobbit!_

“Wonderfully. Uh… would ye excuse me for a moment? I’ve got to use the loo.” Bofur shot out of bed like it was on fire and made a dash for the door as if he didn’t want to be anywhere near him and Bilbo’s heart sunk into his stomach. He didn’t know what to think or what to do about this. He had no way of knowing if Bofur was aware of what he did. But he was still massively aroused and left in such a hurry that Bilbo couldn’t help but think that he did. 

But if he knew, why didn’t he stop him? He seemed fully asleep, after all, so there was still a chance that he didn’t have an inkling. 

Bilbo dragged a hand over his face and realized that despite his misbehavior, he was still turned on -- that hobbit mating instinct was still going on full force and getting stronger. He still wanted Bofur. And his lad was demanding the attention it was denied to the point it was almost painful. 

“You've got to be joking…” Bilbo glared at his lap, his bulge twitched at him in defiance. He reached a hand forward but then snapped it back. “No. No, no, absolutely _not_!” He intended to defy his body’s natural urges. To see if it was possible to ignore it, hoping that it would just go away on its own. Knowing full well that it wouldn’t. 

And as his thoughts drifted to Bofur and the unforgivable things he did to him, Bilbo’s traitorous hand had found its way down to cup himself and his length pulsed in triumph. 

He groaned, feeling the pent up excitement leaking out of him already. 

Unable to stave off the burning ache in his groin, Bilbo heaved a heavy sigh and dove his hand into his pajama pants, grabbing onto the throbbing length in his palm and shuddered. Since Bofur was in the bathroom, Bilbo figured he’d just get on with it quickly. It wouldn’t take him long to finish after working himself up by touching Bofur’s body like that. His actions were so inappropriate, he was almost ashamed of himself for still striving for satisfaction and now getting himself off on it. 

But he thought of the feel of all that muscle, so different from his own, rippling under his hands; straining for him, or whoever Bofur was dreaming about. How much hair the dwarf had and the sounds that escaped by Bilbo’s curious ministrations were the most erotic sounds he ever heard and really got him going. The feel of Bofur writhing and undulating below him gave a sense of power and euphoria that he never experienced before. And he wanted to feel him skin on skin with his body, in his hands, maybe his mouth--

Bilbo paused mid stroke as the visuals dimmed out of view. 

Sounds were coming out of the bathroom on the other side of his bedroom wall. Bilbo angled his head and his ears strained to catch on to what the noise was, and when Bofur’s moan crawled through, Bilbo’s hand gripped himself tightly and he cursed. Maybe he was just imagining that Bofur was… nope. Another moan -- unmistakable and louder than the last -- was heard. Bofur was in the bathroom tending to his needs. Working that thick, massive, impressive--

Resuming with revived fervor, Bilbo’s breath left him in quick pants, hoping to pump himself in time with Bofur. Using the visuals of his earlier actions as his main focus to bring him over the edge.

Sweat broke out across his body dampening his pajamas to his flushed skin and his hips snapped up to meet his hand while he fisted himself faster and faster. 

There a sharp shout that escaped Bofur’s lips once he achieved satisfaction, and it served to bring out Bilbo’s own arrival which violently bulldozed through him in quick, hot spurts. 

Amidst the sweet release his body so desperately craved, he couldn’t believe his ears. They had to be lying to him. That shout had carried with it Bilbo’s name… Bofur was thinking of _him_ while he was… 

As the peaceful relaxation arrived in the aftermath and seeped like fog through his body, Bilbo felt an odd sense of hope flare in his chest. He wondered if Bofur might have feelings for him, too. Or at the very least be attracted to him. Was it too much to hope that he was the one Bofur was dreaming about? 

There was a sudden quiet in the house, and Bilbo took the opportunity to hurriedly clean himself up before Bofur returned, hiding all evidence of what he’d done in his laundry pile as he changed into a fresh pair of undergarments before putting on his day clothes and seeing to fixing them both breakfast. 

Bofur joined him soon after, once he changed back into his traveling clothes. 

Breakfast was awkward. At least for Bilbo. Now that his mind was free of that haze of lust, he resented his actions with utmost embarrassment and made up for it by cooking a grand feast for them both. Although Bofur didn’t seem any different and they laughed and talked about nothing in particular, there was a distinct weight in the room. An unspoken thing hanging between them that they tiptoed around. 

For Bilbo, his shameful actions had crushed him with guilt, but something was definitely troubling Bofur. It it seemed unrelated to Bilbo’s personal woes. 

At first, Bilbo couldn’t put his finger on what exactly was so different between them, or if he was just reading too much into things, until he realized that Bofur remained an arm’s length away from him at all times. He would catch the dwarf looking at him in his peripherals, but as soon as their eyes met, Bofur would flush and look away. Another thing he noticed was that he didn’t touch him once. 

No back slaps, shoulder jostling; not even sitting close to him… As a matter of fact, every time Bilbo even wandered within touching distance, Bofur would distract himself with something and move away. Yes, something changed between them. But Bilbo seemed to just know that it wasn’t because of what happened this morning because Bofur wasn’t behaving like he knew. The change had to have been from last night when they slept together in the same bed. Bofur seemed nervous around him now. And Bilbo couldn’t understand why. 

Using his deductive reasoning, the hobbit concluded that maybe Bofur _did_ feel something for him. He decided to put it to the test as he worked up the might to divulge his own feelings. 

“Well, thank you for yer hospitality, Master Burglar,” Bofur bowed. “I believe it’s time I take my leave now.”

“It’s been a pleasure, Bofur. I really was glad to see you. It’s been so long. I hope you’ll consider passing through again to visit me,” Bilbo replied, gauging Bofur’s expression. Something flashed across his eyes and he nodded quickly with a blush, and whatever that something was drew Bilbo in; giving him the answer he needed. 

Bilbo slowly escorted him to the door and Bofur paused on his way and sighed, then he turned around to face Bilbo with a light pink on his cheeks. 

“Listen, about last night and this morning, I didn’t--”

Bilbo had gathered up all the courage he could muster and placed a firm, swift kiss upon Bofur’s lips and pulled back quickly, daring himself to look the dwarf in the eye after his sudden act of candor. 

Bofur stared at him with wide eyes, hand still paused in the air mid-sentence. 

“I missed you. Every day since the day I left. I tried to stop thinking about you but I couldn’t no matter what I did. I’m in love you, Bofur… I’m in love with you and I didn’t want you leaving without knowing that. And if you never wish to hear from me or see me again, I completely understand, but I just had to get that out in the open. I’m sorry. Do you happen to share any of these affections for me as well?”

Without missing a beat, Bofur grabbed Bilbo’s face and pulled him in close, planting a firm smooch right back. Bofur moved with unleashed confidence and hunger. Bilbo let out a squeak of surprise but quickly melted into his embrace just as the dwarf deepened the kiss. Instincts flaring up once again, Bilbo was practically crawling up on Bofur again, backing him into the door in a loud thump. He about cried with relief for finally being able to do this.

“Oh, Bilbo… since when?” Bofur whispered against his lips as he stroked his cheeks with his thumbs.

“Since always. I couldn’t very well write such sentiments in one of our letters -- it’s much too personal. Not to mention if the wrong hands got a hold of it. Not that I mind anyone knowing! But the words are meant for you only and I’d have wanted you to know them first. In person.” 

Bofur smiled warmly, a different smile than Bilbo was ever used to seeing. Bilbo blushed and fiddled with Bofur’s tunic, biting his lip to stop his foolish grin from taking up his whole face. “With how close you two were, I was so certain ye fancied Thorin. Had I known you felt the same--that’s why I never tried--”

“Shh,” Bilbo shushed him with his lips. “There’s only one dwarf I fancy. And he has me in his arms at last.”

“At last,” Bofur agreed breathlessly. 

It was a good long while before either of them moved away from the door and when they did, Bilbo’s hair was a mess, his vest was on the ground and his tunic was untucked. Bofur’s hat was cocked askew, his top coat lost, and his trouser strings left undone. The only thing that broke them out of the lust-filled stupor they were in and stopped them from proceeding further to the floor was the chime of bells of Bilbo’s clock. 

Bilbo whimpered when Bofur pulled away with a disapproving grunt. 

“Must you go?” Bilbo pouted, his fists clenched into Bofur’s tunic as a poor attempt to hold him in place. 

“Aye,” Bofur responded sadly. “I’m late enough as it is.”

They both took their time in readjusting themselves to a more presentable state again, sharing secret smiles. 

“Will you be coming back this way?” Bilbo asked hopefully.

“Of course! I’ll always come back to my hobbit for as long as he’ll have me,” he winked. “Might I ask ya something though?”

He was _his_ hobbit. He said he was Bofur’s... Bilbo’s chest swelled with love, “Sure. And I’ll have you until you grow sick of my company.” He tacked on.  

The dwarf smirked, his moustache curling up to expose a deep dimple in his cheek.

“I’ll never get sick of ya, my Bilbo. Yer mine now, lad. But what made you tell me now after all this time? Did you know how I felt or… oh, Mahal. You were awake when I held ya last night, weren’t you. I tried to wait until you were asleep, so’s not to wake ye. I couldn’t hold back from not touching ya anymore, but I guess with everythin’ considered, it all worked out.” Bofur smiled unashamed. 

Warmth flooded his body until he felt like he was floating on a cloud upon learning that the embrace was deliberate. “I didn’t know for sure, not really. But I suppose what gave it away was... I, er, overheard. In the, ah… in the bathroom.”

Bofur paled and then flushed before breaking out into hearty laughter. “Uh-oh. Ye weren’t supposed to hear that! I had the best dream of ya last night and if I didn’t do something about the wood in my trousers, I’d have done something truly debauched to ya, my good manners be damned.”

Bilbo perked up smugly, flooding with confidence now that the air was cleared, “I assumed as much. And I feel like I’m partly to blame as I did sort of help you along...” He let the sentence drift to lend gravity to what he was alluding to and watched with satisfaction as Bofur’s pupils blown his brown gems to black right in front of him. Bilbo felt himself stir again, seeing the growing desire in Bofur’s eyes being directed at him. Consciously this time. And full of consent. 

Bofur drew close with a wicked grin, “Did you now.”

“I did,” he replied as he took a step forward to him, daring Bofur -- _his_ Bofur -- to do something about it. “I was a naughty hobbit.”

Bofur’s half-lidded eyes rested on the evidence of Bilbo’s arousal and he let out an approving growl, “Oh, what the hell. Another 20 minutes shouldn’t hurt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To offset the slightly OOC for Bilbo getting a bad case of the hornies, I just made up a sort of hobbit lore for their mating behavior. I mean, I figure it would make sense considering how many little hobbits run around so... xD


	7. My Darling Lass (ReaderXCompany)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the imagine by @imaginedreamwrite on tumblr: Imagine being in love with one of the members of the company and being the only female. After a spell goes wrong, cast by Gandalf, the entire company is turned into women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought the imagine was a really neat concept! This was a prompt I started forever ago and I stumbled across again while I was writing a chapter for Nori, and decided to switch to this instead, if anything just to finally finish it. xD;

“Mind yer footing, lass!” Dwalin instructed, circling around the perimeter where you were practicing. 

Your movement was being closely monitored and carefully critiqued by the seasoned warrior, as was the norm during your sessions. And although sometimes his words came out a bit harsh and brusque, you knew it came from a place of good intentions bearing no ill will. He wanted you to succeed and the tough love approach that he took in guiding you proved to yield the best results. Additionally, you wanted to prove to the guy that you were no delicate, fragile flower and he admired your candor and willingness to get down and dirty. 

The sparring had been going on for over an hour and a half now, much to your surprise. What was supposed to be a fun training session was now a personal challenge to reign victorious in. You cautiously eyed your opponent to discern what your next move should be based on his actions. 

And as close as you had gotten to Kili over time, if you thought he’d go easy on you when it came time for you both to pair up, well, you were sorely mistaken. Literally. To be fair, it was Dwalin who ordered the lads to give it their all based on your increased difficulty level, whereas before they were instructed to hold themselves back. 

You practiced very diligently, so they thought you could handle it. And you could, to an extent. 

Panting heavily with sweat beading on your forehead threatening to drip into your eyes, you focused on your opponent in front of you, ignoring the urge to wipe the moisture free. Kili was also breathing hard since he, too, had perspiration trickling down his face and his dark eyes were determined and set. You mirrored his steps, remembering to keep your shoulders loosened and your mind clear. This was proving to be quite the strenuous workout, but you were much stronger than when you first started months ago; addicted to the thrill of successfully weilding a weapon and knowing exactly how to use it and finally being trusted enough to spar with your friends with a real blade. 

Kili lunged forward, swinging his sword down vertically to your front. With ease, you lifted your own blade to the side to block the blow but stumbled backward after you leaned your weight to shove him away from you with mixed success. 

“Yer footing, Y/N!” Dwalin barked again, noting your repeated mistake. 

Quickly, you adjusted your positioning as Kili advanced again, swiping in the same direction as before. Using your feet, and being mindful of where each foot was positioned per Dwalin’s comment, you made a rainbow arch in attempt to throw Kili’s weapon out of his hand, but his grip was strong and he reversed your overthrow attempt with a mighty yell and charged forward, forcing you to retreat back. 

The company watched and cheered on the sparring in excited yips and shouts from the side lines. The lot had made a sitting area around the clearing that the training was being held in just outside the camp. Bombur was preparing supper further in and usually it was finished in time or before the match was finished. It was a delicious reward from your workout, but since the match had been going on longer than expected, even he got to join in the fun.

As soon as you started getting proficient enough with your training, the dwarves partook in placing bets between you and whoever your current opponent was and found your sessions quite entertaining to watch. They jumped at the chance to offer emasculating remarks and wagers at their kin if it meant fattening up their coin purses in the process. This only provoked your sparring partner’s need to defend their pride, resulting them to use brute strength when they would otherwise go a little easier on you. But you didn’t mind it as much as you thought. As Dwalin (and Balin) often stated, _“Never hold back your strength when in combat -- your opponent certainly won’t. No enemy will take mercy on you because of your gender, so always fight with everything you got at all times.”_

The extra training with Dwalin alone was enough to make you stronger much more quickly, and since he was watching now, you didn’t want to let your instructor down. 

“Come on, lass!” Bofur jumped to his feet and cupped his hands around his mouth so that you could hear him. “You intend to let him treat ya like that? Show ‘im who’s boss!”

Oin also leapt up to offer words of support, “Keep at it, laddie! Or I’ll gladly recount the tale of the mighty Durin prince getting his arse beat by a _lady_!”

Kili’s eyes flashed in determination but you did your best to tune both of your fans out so you could focus on the match. No man -- or dwarf -- liked being emasculated. Kili in particular. He already got enough heat from his lack of dwarven features, so he tended to take the jabs on his masculinity especially hard. But as far as you were concerned if anyone should be upset by that comment it was _you_ , not him. As if being a girl was something to be ashamed of…

However, you had to admit that the shouts in your favor provided an energizing sense of comfort in knowing that you had a select few that believed in you, despite your being “a girl”. 

Bilbo, a steadfast Y/N supporter, never took part in the betting, but mainly watched to make sure you were all right; scolding the lads when they were too rough, gasping and wincing behind his hands whenever it became too much for him to look at. 

Kili, on the other hand, refused to let his manly honor get tossed to the wind by getting defeated by you, which you thought was absolutely ridiculous. You were bruising in places you didn’t know existed; you’ve only just started fighting and he’s had decades of practice he could lord over you. You’d think he’d let you have your moment of pride in yourself for holding out as long as you had.

Dwalin gave the occasional approving grunt and watched on, eagerly pacing back and forth around the fight, providing corrections whenever necessary. 

Kili became relentless in forcing you backwards. His main goal being to use your own weakness -- your footing -- against you so that he can cause you to fall and eventually yield without causing you too much harm. But you will not be so easily detained. 

You had to switch to defense. Kili was much stronger than you were and instead of using offense to this newfound burst of strength he was sporting, you decided to wear him out by changing up your tactics. You allowed him to lead this dance of the blades, being mindful of your footing so that you changed the directory around in a pattern as you waited him out and withstood the blows. Dwalin immediately caught on to what you were doing and chuckled proudly. 

“You seem to be getting tired, my lady,” Kili remarked smugly as his blade clanged with yours for the hundredth time. You leapt back, using your sword as leverage against his to provide you with momentum for the parry. It left an invitation for Kili to pursue you that he gladly accepted. It was only a matter of time before he would get winded. You relied on the emasculating remarks being flung his way to further fuel his fire to give it his all too much too soon so you could swoop in and claim your victory. But for now, all you could do was hold up your defense. 

“You can’t block me forever…” he taunted. 

You chuckled darkly, “I could go on for days, little prince.”

“ _Little_?”

Your arms were starting to get sore. 

This was the longest match to date and both of your stomach’s were begging to be fed; the fatigue of an empty gut was finally bursting through the adrenaline rush the fight had provided you both until all you were running on were fumes. The match would be coming to a close soon, and both of you knew it. Kili smirked as your blades crossed again in tandem. Both of your arms shook with the impact of trying to force the other back, but Kili maintained the upper hand. Still in the ‘X’ formation, he continued to guide you backwards, leaning his face up to meet yours between the steel. 

“I don’t recall you sneaking a peek at me, you sly thing. Whatever became of your maidenly restraint?”  

You scoffed. “I’ve plenty of that. Especially when it comes to you.” 

“Then you should know that I’m more than big enough for you, lass.” Oh, how you hated the confidence in that sultry voice of his. 

“Take her down, Kili!” Someone shouted. 

Kili was the known reckless one. The playful flirt of the group, though quite on Bofur’s level of confidence. Being the only female to grace them on their journey, you were often the target of their flirtatious remarks and Kili especially relished every moment in making your face go red even though you never fully reciprocated the innocuous banter. You didn’t exactly shoot him down, either, and as such, he was willing to stoop to this level just to grasp at any opening he could force from you in order to win. 

And being this close to the youngest Durin prince and his heavily panting frame soaked with sweat from the rush of battle, dark eyes focused intensely on yours, and feeling the power of his muscular body firsthand opposing yours had your mind desperately fighting off the rather unsightly images of what he must look like shirtless. What it would be like to see his face flushed with sweat with the exertion of using his power for more provocative purposes beyond this… 

How big _was_ he? you wondered to yourself. He smirked, sensing his charm getting the better of you. 

“Almost there! Knock ‘er down and I’ll split my share with ya!” Another Kili supporter cried, further fueling his drive. 

You grunted and shoved against him to no avail. Kili was grinning now. Your strength was fading and he could feel it. Both of your feet moved in unison as you were forced further backwards in your warrior’s waltz. You desperately tried to think on ways to create another opening, but Kili’s charisma had worked its way into your mind. Just as he intended it to, the little imp. You couldn’t withstand his ferine strength forever and if you got taken out solely because he was using his attractiveness to his advantage, you would ever live in shame. Kili grinned even wider when your arms wavered knowing his victory was on the rise. 

“Stand your ground, Y/N!” Thorin’s voice shouted, startling you out of your trance. 

Your eyes briefly turned to catch the rare sight of Thorin jumping to his feet, posed and actually _cheering_ you on with an enthusiasm you’ve never seen on him before outside of seeing him fight. Kili used your mild distraction as his chance to thrust you away from him and you stumbled, almost losing your balance, but regained it just in time to spin your way behind Kili as he lunged forward to shove you with his elbow.  

“That’s it!” Dwalin cheered with a hearty laugh. 

You could tell by the tone of his voice that he truly was enjoying this. 

An uproar was heard from the company at the change in positions; they stomped their feet and pounded on their knees in stark approval. Both of your fans were shouting words of encouragement and strength in both Common Tongue and Khuzdul in their excitement. 

While Kili was still hunched over after missing you, you kicked his hip with the sole of your boot to force him to his knees and he yelped at the impact but didn’t go down. Instead, huffing and spinning on his heel, he ducked at your next oncoming assault and launched another attack, trying to slam his shoulder into you with a deep grunt. 

Using the same technique as before, you spun away from him but he quickly caught on to your maneuver and clanged his sword dangerously close to your face on the opposite side you were heading for to stop you from gaining advantage on him. You blocked him just in time, exhaling a hiss at the anticipation of getting sliced open. 

Now you were mad. 

He had taken this too far! When sparring, it was always a rule to never land fatal blows, never ‘go for the kill’, and never aim for vital parts. Cuts and bruises were to be expected, but there were ground rules to keep both parties safe. And Kili had just barely gone over bounds. He immediately stopped and looked to you in worry, offering a sincere apology, asking if you were hurt and dropping his arms.

Bilbo’s distressed whine could be heard amidst the resounding ‘oooh’ at the shock of what could have been a potentially fatal blow. 

“Watch the face! Goodness, what are you trying to do, behead her?!” the hobbit shouted angrily. 

There were a few undistinguished murmurs that followed from your supporters. 

“They’ve got this!” Dwalin barked at him, thoroughly relishing how this fight was turning out, beyond impressed at this human woman’s aptitude. As far as who the winner would be, it was anyone’s guess now. But even Dwalin had to admit that that was actually pretty close... 

“Keep it clean, you two!” Balin scolded at you both. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry! Are you--”

You resume with revived fervor and Kili was ready when you swung at him. 

Your anger gave you fire, but you had to calm yourself. You didn’t want to waste this energy too soon. 

“Watch the face!” Bilbo sputtered again, even though you took up the same safe familiar ‘X’ position of your swords. 

“Now there’s an idea, Y/N,” Kili grunted, crossing swords once more once he was certain you were all right. You caught him reviewing your face to make sure he didn’t catch you you anywhere. “Watch my face. Handsome, isn’t it?”

His eyes bored into yours, doing his damndest to put on his best attempt at a smolder while wiggling his eyebrows. 

You bristled at first, but then smirked as a thought occurred. 

“Oh, I’ve done more than just watch: I’ve fantasized…”  you purred. 

His arms never wavered, but his eyes sure did. You’ve never once flirted back with him, let alone say anything remotely raunchy in all the times that he flirted. You had your pride and maidenly virtue, after all. But now seemed as good a time as any to give him a good, healthy taste of his own medicine. 

Kili’s eyebrows rose into his wettened hairline and a smug grin began to form. 

“Oh? Have you now--”

“In the late hours of the night when everyone’s asleep, I sometimes lay awake and let my hand wander while I look over at your sleeping form--” you pushed back on him to gauge the effect of your words and he responded earnestly, letting you know his strength was still sound “--and imagine what the look in your eyes would be like after being shoved against a tree, or maybe mounted, with your hands tied above your head completely at my mercy. Free for me to play as I please.”

The smirk instantly vanished and was replaced by a red tint behind his stubbled face as his pupils dilated at your words. He continued pushing you backwards, but this time, you were the one leading him. Kili had not been expecting that confession. Let alone _now_ , of all times. 

It was true, though. You had to give it to him: he _was_ attractive. Many of the Company were and your thoughts had often taken a trip down a not so saintly path in the wee hours of the night as your fantasies unfolded beautifully erotic scenes as you dictated to yourself what type of lovers each might make based on what you knew of them. 

“What would your lips look like, Kili? Ripe and swollen after being kissed, bitten, and licked like the sweetest candy. I’d wager you taste just like honey.”

His breath hitched when you bit your lip and your eyes glanced down at his lips before flicking back up to his now fully dilated eyes, “If we were alone and you let me have my way, I bet I can make you _drip_ like honey… Sweet and thick on my tongue and down my throat.”

Although still stronger, his surge of strength he was riding on had diminished completely. This was the last of his borrowed energy he had left from his support and Kili was feverishly doing all in his ability to hold on. His chest was heaving with fatigue and his eyes darkened even more at just how explicit you were being -- not even _he_ said such things. And you knew it was highly uncommon for any woman to speak this way to anyone that wasn’t their lover, “Sweet Mahal, Y/N, th-that is hardly fair…”  he practically growled.

“I’ll tell you what isn’t fair. Being this close to your lips,” you leaned your face down to his in the same way he did to you earlier with your eyes boring into delicious brown orbs. “And not being able to do a thing about it.”

Kili moistened his dried lips as his eyes flicked to your parted ones. He swallowed in anticipation, somehow forgetting that you were sparring. And that there was an audience. But not you! He was right where you wanted him. 

“Except for this,” you purposefully flicked your tongue out sensually to wetten them and while his attention was focused there, you quickly jumped at the chance to head butt him right in the face and followed up with a kick to his chest. Kili hissed and clutched his nose in pain, tumbling backwards.

A roar of praise and feedback ripped through your audience and Thorin belted out a whoop in Khuzdul that you couldn’t understand. 

Now left one handed to cradle his wound, Kili fruitlessly blocked your advances with his dominant arm. 

“Yield!” you commanded, charging forward. 

He returned both hands to the hilt of his sword to reveal his bloodied nose as he weakly blocked your attacks, “No!” 

“ _Yield_!”

“I will not!” He glared and bore his teeth in concentration, using the remainder of his energy to defend against you, hoping you will use all of your remaining prowess in the process. You noticed he still sported that blush on his face and you smirked. Especially when you made sure your grunts were as sensual as you could make them sound. 

Exhausted, sore, and shaking, both of you continued on for a few more minutes before Kili tripped over his footing. He didn’t have time to right himself as you barreled into him with your shoulder, knocking him flat on his back and gently placed your sword to his neck. 

He briefly closed his eyes and opened them, staring passed you and up into the evening sky. 

“...I yield,” he grumbled, raising his hands before plopping them on the grass beside him. 

Dwalin gave a mighty shout in Khuzdul and applauded you enthusiastically, “Well done, lass! Well done!”

Completely spent, your legs gave out and you sunk to your knees, using your sword as your only means of support before you toppled and your arms gave out. You rolled  over to the side towards Kili and laid shoulder to shoulder. Shouts, whoops, and hollers could be heard from behind you and soon after, the demands of paying up were declared. 

The group regaled the spectacle, thoroughly amazed and satiated at the performance they were given and soon they retreated back to camp for supper. 

Your eyes met Kili’s as you both lay gasping openly for air on the cool ground, sweating profusely from your efforts. You managed a lopsided grin of triumph and a rush of well-earned pride coursing through your veins. He didn’t return the smile.

Instead, his half-lidded eyes roamed your face with furrowed brows. Either to assure himself that you were unhurt or for another reason entirely, you didn’t ask. Your grin fell when you realized just how badly you had hurt him. The blood from his nose was more prominent now, but it seemed to have stopped gushing. But you couldn’t be sure. He had landed a few good hits on you as well, but nothing compared to that. You were so caught up in the moment, driven by the need to win, that you didn’t even notice how in pain he must have been…

You sat up with your brows creasing in worry. 

“You cheated,” he smirked breathlessly, though unfazed.  

You leveled your stare on him. “Oh, please, you started it!”

He gave a tired giggle and with no less bravado, “Aye, I did. Think I taste like honey, you say? Y’know, all you had to do was ask… I’d have gladly given myself up in the name of science.”

You blushed and cleared your throat in hopes to at least _attempt_ to sound convincing, “I just said that so I’d win. It proved to be successful.”

He pouted. 

There was no denying it, especially when the entire company was witness and would never let him live it down that he had gotten beaten by you. 

“So you did,” Kili answered softly. 

He closed his eyes to regain his composure and opened them when he sensed you leaning over him. You saw his eyes flicker between your own and your lips and he blushed again and swallowed. 

Concern was stark on your face when you viewed the damage you inflicted, reaching your hand up to check it, paying no mind to what he was probably thinking about, “Are you okay? You’re hurt.”

“I’ve had worse--”

“Only his pride and ego, my lady,” Fili interrupted all chipper with a dimpled grin. He joined you both on the “battlefield” along with Dwalin, Bilbo, and Thorin. You beamed up at their smiling faces. 

“You did well today. Your form has been improving,” Thorin praised; then to Kili who was wiping at his bloodied nose with the back of his hand, “You as well. Have Oin take a look at that.”

“Aye,” concurred Balin. “I think it safe to say that you both earned your supper. Come then, time to eat.”

In unison both of your stomachs growled just at the very mention of food, which earned a round of chuckles at your expense. 

You and Kili shared a smile and Dwalin helped you up while Fili lifted his brother and you both were escorted back to camp with the respect and admiration of your peers as your true prize.

 

* * *

 

You had grown accustomed to the company of dwarves after spending the better part of three months with the rambunctious lot. It was difficult at first; not just being the only human among the men, but also the only _female_ at that. Thorin, the leader of the company, was vehemently against taking you on at first, insisting that your presence would only serve to be a distraction and a burden that they could not afford.

Against his better judgement, and with the effortless persuasion and logic of Gandalf the Grey, you  became the fifteenth member of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. The dwarves were wary of you for the first couple days, save for Bilbo who attached himself to you with idle curiosity and endless questions. After all, you had arrived from another world inexplicably, and being the curious hobbit that he was, he had many inquiries to ask and took quite a liking to you and all the tales you told of your world. 

But after learning more about you and your character, the bunch had taken to you soon enough and you were welcomed into the fold. Even Thorin eventually warmed up to you once he found that you both shared similar core values and you proved yourself to be a capable addition to the troupe. The company was delighted that you expressed an interest in learning to fight, but were reluctant to teach you, given your “feminine delicacy”; an issue they never seemed to let up on, much to your annoyance. After a compelling argument you brought up, the dwarves agreed to rotate in turns in teaching you to battle. Kili assisted you with using the bow, Fili and Thorin with the sword, and Dwalin with the ax until you solidified your main weapon of choice.

You sparred with everyone else of the company for additional practice and before long, you were a natural. Today marked the first day that you bested someone in battle and you couldn’t have been more pleased with yourself that it was with Kili, of all dwarves. 

And Kili, as much as he downplayed it, couldn’t find it in him to be upset with the results. He was impressed to be bested by a human woman in battle. Something you would not have learned if Fili hadn’t divulged those details to you later that night; occasionally throwing you a wink from across the fire while you all enjoyed Bombur’s stew. Like brother like brother, you smirked. As the winner, you were given two servings of supper, which you heartily accepted and wolfed down to make up for all the calories you burned. 

After eating your fill, you pushed your empty bowl away and leaned back to rest on your elbows. You sighed, rubbing a satisfied hand across your full stomach. 

“Yeh earned it, lass,” Dwalin’s voice came from beside you. He sat himself down by your side and regarded you with such pride, your heart swelled beyond capacity. You grinned up at him tired but content in response. 

“Thank you! I have a great teacher to thank for that.” You pointedly nodded towards him. 

He puffed his chest out proudly at the compliment, continuing to eat his meal by your side in revered silence. You glanced over at Kili after hearing him groan in frustration for millionth time. His nose, thankfully, wasn’t broken; Oin was able to mend it easily. But the poor guy was being relentlessly teased at every turn -- he’d be the butt of everyone’s jokes for weeks, based on what Balin told you. As if it was something you should be proud of when really you garnered mixed feelings. 

“He’s never gonna live this down, is he?” you asked, actually feeling a little irked at the content in which he was being teased. 

Dwalin snickered, noisily slurping up the supper contents in his spoon. “Not likely.”

It really shouldn’t be that big of a fuss, it was just a spar. You _never_ won! But then you remember all the degrading comments that were being made to spur him on that him heated up. 

“Is it really so dishonorable being defeated by a woman?” you questioned in honest curiosity. 

It didn’t make sense to you. Sure, males are typically anatomically built to be stronger than their female counterparts, but that doesn’t negate the possibility for a female to best a male in battle. Misogyny was still a common issue where you came from. Women are considered the “weaker species” all because a bunch of elitist dicks, pun intended, decided as such.

You knew the dwarves were a very proud race, but you still knew very little of them and where that sense of pride stems from. How did they treat their own women? Did men here share the same views about women as the ones back at home? God, you sure hoped they didn’t... 

“No,” Dwalin said, resolutely. “Just uncommon. You should be proud, not every human maid can say they’ve bested a dwarrow in combat.” 

You frowned when he didn’t further elaborate and watched as he drank from his bowl until it was empty before promptly leaving you to your thoughts. He took your empty bowl with him to be cleaned and that was apparently that. Bilbo slid beside you soon after. 

Bilbo was giving you a familiar look and before he could even utter a word you rolled your eyes, “Bilbo, for the last time: I’m _fine_! Just minor cuts and bruises. I’m still in one piece and my answer isn’t going to change the more you ask me about it.”

“Let her alone, lad,” Bofur interjected from your other side, leaning over to clap you on the shoulder. “After that rewarding display, there isn’t a thing this lass can’t handle!” 

Bilbo gave you a brief once over but nodded in agreement with Bofur, returning his gaze in front of him into the fire, “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t putting up a front, is all,” he defended quietly. 

You smiled at his sweetness and patted him on the back. “I appreciate the concern, Bilbo, but I’m not made of glass.”

“Aye, if there’s anyone that needs checking up on, it’s that lad,” Bofur indicated to a now very annoyed Kili who angrily began drinking his stew after a jesting comment from Gloin and Nori.

“Would it have made any difference if Kili lost to a female dwarf instead of a human?” you asked Bofur. 

He tilted his head inquiringly, “What do you mean?

You sighed and sat up to a seated position. The two men noted your exasperation.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you started. “I’m super proud of myself. But I can’t help but feel like me beating Kili is being seen as this sort of emasculating, undignified something-or-other. Just because I’m a female.” 

“Oh, lass! Don’t misunderstand! It’s all in good fun.”

“Okay, well, what if he was beaten by a dwarrowdam?”

Bofur shrugged. “Dwarrowdams are plenty capable creatures, just like us dwarrows are!”

You quirked an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand how that has anything to do with what I just said.”

Bofur adjusted his position to face you better. Bilbo also seemed curious for more details. 

“The likelihood of being bested is few and far in between unless you do somethin’ to really stoke their fire -- which Kili is more than capable of doing, mind. But our women are few,” he specified. “Perhaps one in five of our population is female. Though they are capable fighters like the rest of us, they tend to be treated more precious than dwarrows and perhaps that means we tend to view all women that way. Generally, dwarrowdams don’t join in battle unless they’re in great need. As such, we value our females and the urge to protect them at all costs comes first because they’re precious to us. But when it comes to beatin' Kili, it’s not that it’s-- uh…” he searched for the word he wanted to use, trying to summon the thought by snapping his fingers.

“Embarrassing?” Bilbo offered. 

Bofur perked up. “Yes! It’s not that it’s embarrassin’ to be defeated by a woman, it’s embarrassin’ because Kili is a cocky lil bugger always braggin’ about his youth and skill like young dwarrows tend to do, and here comes this otherworldly lass with three months trainin’ knockin’ him flat on his arse. Ye made my day! My coin purse’s, too.” He gave his pocket an affectionate pat. 

You sighed. That didn’t make you feel any better at all and Bofur seemed to notice and before he could start blubbering on, Bilbo decided to step in. 

“I think what Bofur is trying to say, and failing miserably at, is that your being female has nothing to do with why Kili is being teased--”

Just at that moment, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili were getting into another playful spat at Kili’s expense. You couldn’t understand what they were saying as all was being done in Khuzdul, but the annoying implication was there based on the overly dramatized feminine body language to supplement their words coupled with Kili's dejected, irked response. 

You looked over your shoulder to glare at them while Bofur did his best to stifle his snorts of laughter. Bilbo sensed your growing rage and tried desperately to add on to what he was explaining but it wasn’t doing anything for you at all. 

“Bilbo, I implore you not to help me,” you pinched the bridge of your nose and shook your head, suddenly feeling less victorious and satisfied with yourself.

“Men really are all the same in every species,” you mused quietly to yourself. This was so annoying. It was a shame your body only really responded to males, otherwise you’d have banded up with your fellow females as your mate in life long ago. “I’m going to die a spinster.”

That got their attention. More than you would have liked; you didn’t mean to groan that out so loud. Bofur looked absolutely shocked, “What!? Where’d you get an idea like that from?”

Bilbo was equally perplexed.

“Now, don’t say that! You’re a capable, intelligent, lovely, and strong young woman! Any man would be lucky to have you for their wife,” the hobbit said sweetly. “In fact--”

“And who says she has to wed a _man_? Ye suggestin’ that a dwarrow wouldn’t suit her any better?” Gloin interjected, entirely serious. Bilbo shrunk back from his fiery gaze. 

“What? Uh, w-well--”

“Well, she certainly wouldn’t bind to an elf!” Dwalin laughed. Everyone openly displayed their distaste just at the thought, completely ignoring the fact that you were sitting right there with no apparent say in the matter. 

“Aye!” Nori added no less smug than the others. “With her skill and assets, Y/N would be much better paired with a dwarrow than some man! I’d bet on it.”

“Oi, weren’t you the one who bet against the lass in the first place?” Dori chided. Nori sheepishly shrugged in defense and smiled apologetically at you.

Your head whipped all around the camp as each dwarf argued over who was best suited for your husband before they finally realized they could just ask you directly, which they did in an overwhelming bouts. 

“Gee, everyone suddenly cares what I have to say now. How keen…” You mumbled loud enough for them to hear. By this time, the dwarves have all formed an intimate cocoon around the fire as they delved deeper into the discussion. Since the main focus of torment was finally lifted off of Kili, he happily partook in the conversation. 

“Well, go on then. Tell us what kind of lad ya fancy: man, dwarf, or elf,” Dori demanded in as polite a way as he could. 

“Definitely a dwarf,” Kili “whispered” to Fili before flashing you a charming wink and smile. 

“Excuse me,” Bilbo interjected sourly. “Is it that unreasonable to include hobbits in your ridiculous list of suitors? I’ll have you know hobbit men make fine husbands!” 

“Aye, laddie, I guess we could throw your lot in there,” Oin laughed, earning him a few chuckles at Bilbo. Apparently the idea that you would pair up with a hobbit was also something to laugh about. You crossed your arms, unamused, with expectant eyes on you waiting for your answer. 

“Do you fancy hobbits…?” Ori questioned shyly after he took in your annoyed expression. A stark silence ripped through the company then as they waited for a confirmation or denial.

“No more than I do anybody else, but I don’t need you lot telling me that,” you spat. 

The company exchanged questionable looks.

“You have to have a preference,” Fili insisted. There were a few mumbled concurs from the lads at that.

You chuckled, “Oh, I do, huh?”

“Of course! Surely you prefer a lad with strength!” Dori noted matter-of-factly. 

“And stature!”

“Who can hold down his ale!” 

“With a well-groomed beard!”

“ _Especially_ a well-groomed beard.”

“And good with their hands,” Bofur wiggled his fingers for emphasis and offered a suggestive smile. “For _crafting_ , Dori! Get yer mind out of the gutter.”

Bilbo’s brows furrowed at them. “Sounds an awful lot like you’re trying to influence her decision in your favor...”

“What? They’re fine qualities for a male to have!” 

“Aye, s’not our fault they happen to be dwarrow qualities.”

“Fine then. No need to spare our feelings, Miss Y/N. Which race do you prefer?” The one who asked that particular question surprised you. In all honesty, you weren’t sure why he cared so much about it, but considering how his race and masculinity had just been thrown under the bus, you couldn’t help but smirk at Bilbo’s bluntness. Looks like not even the quiet, respectable Bilbo Baggins was safe from the wounds derived of emasculating remarks

You felt the heat of fourteen pairs of eyes staring intently at you -- yes, Gandalf included. The whimsical wizard had been silently enjoying the debacle with profound amusement, never once saying a single word as his eyes twinkled in merry delight. Thorin even seemed interested to know your response as he watched you intently from a secluded place in camp. 

The truth was, you _did_ have a preference. But it wasn’t a preference for any specific race, it was a preference for a particular male who had sneakily and irrevocably stolen your heart from you. You knew without a doubt that you were in love with him, and whether or not your romantic intentions were reciprocated was beyond your comprehension and filed away under a dusty cabinet inside your mind labeled under Wishful Thinking. But you thought it best to play your feelings close to the chest anyway. It’s not like he ever made a move or insinuated any serious return in affections despite all the time you’ve spent together talking, sparring, and generally getting to know one another. Even now as you stared at him, you could feel your heart leap and your spirit soar as if his very existence gave profound meaning to yours. 

In your world, the term “soulmate” didn’t mean much to you. At best, it seemed like an overly romanticized concept to encourage the act of dating as many people as possible, only to kick them to the curb the moment they finally realized that they weren’t it and left to pursue someone else in an endless pursuit of finding greener pastures. It was a bunch of New Age garbage, as far as you were concerned.

Sure, you’ve dated plenty of guys. Some sweet, some not. But all of them didn’t feel like they were truly yours, nor you theirs. You naturally assumed that you preferred not to settle, and gave up on dating until you found someone that would be worth your while so you didn’t waste their time or yours. 

This obviously had made your romantic life a rather lonely one. 

But after you appeared in Middle Earth and looked into his eyes for the first time, you felt as if your entire world shattered beneath you until all that remained was him. The monumental feeling that you’ve only read about in books and seen in movies left you floating up to the sun to bask in a warm, comforting glow that you longed to get lost in. Much like the whole soulmate term, you chuckled at the notion of “love at first sight”, thinking that you just found the guy extremely alluring and became infatuated with him out of sheer loss of romantic/sexual contact, but as time grew on, so did your feelings. You were in love, and the love was stronger than any driving force you ever knew. You would die for him, kill for him, and stand by his side no matter what. There was no room in your heart for another; you knew this innately without question. And for the first time, the word “soulmate” finally held real meaning to you. He was yours. He would always be yours. 

You averted your eyes from him before anyone noticed and hummed in thought, “Well… honestly, I don’t have a set racial preference. My tastes are more refined in my partner than that, so he could be any race as long as he shares my core values and I’m attracted to him at least to some capacity.”

“An' what, pray tell, might those core values be, lass?” Dwalin huffed, not satisfied with your answer. 

“Obviously she’s referring to physical attributes as well as their character, right, Y/N?” Ori jumped in, looking to you hopefully. But before you could answer, another slew of comments and assumptions poured in which you didn’t bother to disband. You rested your head in your hand and watched the dwarves bicker and debate through half-lidded eyes. Bilbo, much to your surprise, included. 

“Lads, lads!” Balin shushed once they started to get out of hand again. “Give the lass a chance to answer.” He returned the floor to you and everyone seemed to sit closer, now more eager than ever. You gave a silent nod of thanks.

“For one, yes, physical appearance does play an important factor, but I want more than just that in my partner. I need to know that he can be loyal, noble, loving, willing to provide and support me just as I would do for him.”

Fili grinned, “Sounds an awful lot like dwarven qualities to me.”

“Indeed,” Kili agreed all too pleased. 

“Now, now, hobbits also share those traits with their special ones, my dear dwarves.”

“Thank you, Gandalf,” Bilbo smiled gratefully at the wizard’s defense and sitting taller as if to emphasize that his race held just as much worth as theirs did. Gandalf winked in response and returned to his role as an amused spectator.  

“Well, I think I can speak for everyone when I ask what physical attributes do you fancy most on your ideal lad?” Balin asked.

You paled, secretly hoping they weren’t trying to out you on your crush. _Did they know?_ you wondered. There was no way you could say it! Everyone here had very distinctive physical appearances! If you described what he looked like or gave a preference, they’d all know for sure! Plus, he was _right here_ , for pete's sake!

“Yes, I’m quite interested to know as well,” Bofur confessed, exhaling a puff of smoke from his pipe as he eyed you cheekily. 

Why does it always have to be about looks? You pouted, trying to dig yourself out of this mess they created for you while your eyes kept straying over to the man you had your heart set on and you blushed when your eyes met. “I think I’m done with this discussion.”

“What!?” They hollered.

“But--”

“I agree,” Thorin interjected. "This conversation has gone on quite long enough. Rest now, we leave early in the morrow.”

You gave a silent thanks to him while the grumbling lot slowly disbursed and got themselves situated in claiming their spots. As you prepared for your own sleeping space, you noticed Gandalf perched to the side deep in thought about something and he seemed a little troubled. 

Exhaustion was creeping in from the aftermath of the sparring and you wanted nothing more than to dive headfirst into dreamland, but if there was something Gandalf had knowledge of that nobody else did of something bad coming, you knew you’d be able to sleep a little easier knowing what it was. Especially now that you could actually help out.

“Everything okay?” you asked after walking over.

“Of course! Why would you think otherwise?” came the wizard's politely defensive response. 

“You’re tense and you have the ‘something’s wrong’ face,” you smirked. He chuckled at your odd way of speaking, as opposed to Middle Earth’s, but assured you he was right as rain. 

“You seem to be faring quite well here. It is also reassuring that you are developing an aptitude for fighting -- your skills will be most needed.” You tensed. Hopefully he wasn't implying you'd have to go into battle anytime soon. As ready as you were, your body still needed rest; it didn't rebound in the same way as dwarves did. 

“Are there no female fighters anywhere?”

He shook his head, “Quite the contrary. There are plenty of women fighters of all races in Middle Earth. They are just--”

“Uncommon?” you finished with an annoyed sigh.

Gandalf eyed you considerately, with the sort of patience you'd expect from a prestige wizard such as himself. He knew better than to probe you for questions because it was obvious sexist remarks irked you and considering how often they're implied, it was starting to set you off. 

"Without your consent, no one can make you feel inferior -- and you are far from that, my dear Y/N. You must remember the world and mostly the company upon which you travel. They are dwarves, male dwarves. It would be unnatural if they did not behave as such. And I suppose men of any specie needs a woman to help keep them in line."

You smiled. Gandalf should be renamed as Gandalf the Wise; he always seemed to know just what to say. 

"I wish they were more open-minded. Not just for me, but in general. I understand their need for secrecy, but you gotta give people the benefit of the doubt. And women." You added.

Gandalf chuckled and returned his focus to the distance ahead. "Indeed. Perhaps there is something I can do about that."

"Like what?"

He waved the thought off, "Nothing to concern yourself with, Miss Y/N. Go get some rest now."

You knew better than to press, but you had to admit that you were curious to know what he planned on doing. He had a way with words, but even when they resonated with you, when it came to the dwarves -- Thorin in particular -- sometimes it was like trying to force a mountain to move over: frustrating and impossible. A calm quiet had settled over the camp as you tiptoed your way back to your spot, not before casting a glance at your secret crush on the way. He was curled up close by, within sight of where you were. You smiled to yourself. If anything, you were happy for him to be the last thing you saw when you fell asleep, and hopefully the first one you saw when you woke up. 

 

* * *

 

When you awoke the next morning, your entire body was aching from the aftermath of last evenings activities. It took all of your might to waddle off to the bushes for some privacy to pay the water bill.

A loud scream pierced the air, coming from the direction of the campsite. You hurriedly finished doing your business and bolted, cursing yourself for leaving your weapon behind. 

As soon as you walked into the camp, you physically felt the tension in the air as if it was a tangible force. The company were all awake, frantically running around one another or merely standing still in what appeared to be utter horror. 

At first, you didn’t understand what was wrong. You approached the closest person to you and spun them around to ask what happened but stopped, your words catching in your throat. Slowly, you withdrew your hands from Nori’s shoulders and your eyes ate up his fear-stricken face down to every last detail, noting a huge change. Now searching the faces of the rest of the company, they all shared a similar look of distress and confusion. 

The tension was so thick you could practically taste it on your tongue, but even still you couldn’t help but laugh. It started off as small coughs but soon developed into gut wrenching bellows. 

It belted out of you like an ongoing thunder that seemed to have no end. More so, you couldn’t seem to _stop_ laughing; every time you looked up and caught the mortified eye of someone -- anyone -- you only doubled over again, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your abs were already on fire from yesterday and you tried to find the will to stop, but the bizarre situation was too much for you to handle. Gingerly, you cradled your abdomen, begging for the laughter to cease no more than they likely did.

"Oi, how come Y/N is still the same?!" Dori pointed.

“I fail to see the hilarity in all this, Y/N…” Bilbo’s soft voice grumbled. 

“Aye, what in Mahal’s name am I to do about _these_?!” Nori’s shrill voice protested, gesturing to his chest.

Somehow all of the company, save for Gandalf, had been turned into women. And even better yet: they all managed to maintain some parts of their beards, though certain areas of their face have softened and were now bare due to their new gender change. Many of their head hair had grown longer, and they appeared to be more feminine in stature and build, but aside from the obvious female facial features -- minus the beards -- and slight alteration in height, the bunch hadn’t really changed too much. 

Kili’s wide, thick-lashed eyes met yours and you doubled over once again with maniacal cackles.

“Oi, Kili, at least now you stand another chance for a rematch. What with being fairly paired now an’ all!” Bofur guffawed, probably trying to lighten the mood. 

“Hmph. At least mine are bigger than yours,” Kili remarked proudly, shamelessly thrusting out and groping at his new voluptuous chest mounds. 

“Oi!” Dori tutted, smacking his hands. “Show some dignity, for Durin’s sake! Grasping at yourself so shamelessly like that!”

“Aye, Kili,” Fili butted in, flicking his long golden locks over his shoulder. “It’s unbecoming of a _lady_!”

“ _Enough_!” Thorin’s voice thundered. 

Even as a woman, his voice was deeper than the rest and just as commanding. It was still strangely melodic like his baritone vocal chords were, too, and it was actually quite sexy. All chatter and panic ceased upon the king’s -- er, queen’s -- command. Thorin addressed the wizard, “Gandalf, _what_ happened to us? Was this your doing?”

It wasn’t often that Gandalf looked uncomfortable, but now even you were shocked to learn that Gandalf had done this.You hoped it didn’t have anything to do with your discussion last night, but it sure seemed like it. Thorin didn’t miss the sheepish look on Gandalf’s face and his eyes turned hard.

“You change us back this instant!”

There were several cries of agreements cycling through the group and Gandalf returned their stares with an apologetic nod of his head. “It is not that simple, I’m afraid…”

Thorin flushed red, not of embarrassment, but of anger. “Do explain, Gandalf.” His voice leaked venom.

“It appears that I may have had a slight miscalculation with a spell I performed last night.”

“A slight. Miscalculation.” Thorin deadpanned. 

“A spell?” Dwalin shrieked.

“How long are we to be stuck in this-this… predicament?” Bilbo wailed. 

“Until I return with some answers, though it should wear off on its own. If you have any questions about your new, uh, forms, I’m sure Y/N would be more than happy to aid you. But for now, I must venture out to gain some insight for the quest.”

Way to throw you under the bus! You didn't have a chance to get a word in edgewise. There was too much distressed chatter going on at once. 

Ori’s eyes bogged out of his head. “You’re leaving us like this?”

“How long?!”

“Like Valar, you are!”

Everyone jumped in to speak their mind but there was no arguing with Gandalf the Grey, as there was nothing more he could do. And so, Gandalf and you all parted ways as you continued on upon Thorin’s order; as inconvenient as it was, he wasn’t going to let this unfortunate event stop him from continuing forward. 

In the matter of several hours, you had become floored with an array of various questions from your now female companions, all asking how to do certain things, with questions about what certain parts were, if “this” or “that” was normal and so on. It was exhausting and ridiculous… but you had to admit a little funny, too. There were those who sucked it up and took the change in stride and others who treated themselves as they would a stranger they couldn't escape from. But then there were some who were very curious and spent a little extra time than normal during bathroom breaks. 

Even though you all were now technically the same gender, Thorin forbade you all from bathing or taking bathroom breaks together; they were still males inside and thankfully Thorin was still thinking honorably, much to the others' dismay. You rolled your eyes but smiled at that. At least they were the same dwarves you came to know and care for.  

As you all journeyed forth, you snickered to yourself when the random bickering started. 'These things keep getting in the way!', 'Argh, my thighs are about to start a fire...', 'Why's it so bloody hot out?'.

_Serves you all right!_ you thought. _Not as easy as it looks, huh? Who's the 'dainty lass' now?_ They all seemed to walk differently as well, as if they were just remembering how. You found it odd but then it occurred to you that they were now walking without an extra appendage hanging between their legs, so it must have felt bizarre having nothing there anymore. 

You were glad _you_ didn't undergo a gender change. Could you imagine? Huh. Well... yes, actually...

Many miles and hours later, Thorin finally declared the next campsite and stormed off to brood and keep an eye out for Gandalf's return. You assisted with setting up a fire and preparing dinner and noticed your crush resting by themselves, wondering how they were doing. Welp, only one way to find out! Taking a bowl for both yourself and them, you took a breath and walked over. Thoughts from last night came pouring into your mind. All the things you were looking for in a partner, all the core values; it was everything he had. And despite them now turning female, your feelings hadn't changed at all. You still loved him and accepted him. 

_Maybe it's time I let him know,_ you decided. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m willing to write an ending for 3 different dwarves (and/or hobbit!) unless I get a surge of creativity or my fingers go ham. If there's someone in particular you'd like me to write an ending for, let me know and thanks for reading and all of your support on my work so far! You guys are the best! <3


	8. The Space Between (NorixReader) Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori knows the drill. He's been thrown into dungeons plenty of times to understand that they're all the same. So what could possibly be so different this time around? Well, when he meets a mysterious stranger with an ocean of secrets down there, and they create a little game to pass the time, he doesn't expect to fall in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: NSFW
> 
> Unrelated note: I wanted to take a moment to offer thanks to everyone who has read, commented, and supported my stories and oneshots of our darling pebs thus far! As a bit of a self-conscious writer, it makes me so happy to know that my stories are being well-received and enjoyed by you. I have many more fun chapters, and separate stories, in the making that I can't wait to share with you all. But I wanted to take the time to thank all of you for your kudos, feedback, requests (which are still open), and kind words! THANK YOU!

“Would you rather go bald or forever be cursed with horrid hair?”

“Horrid hair! Valar above… horrid hair without question.” Nori shivered just at the thought of losing his gloriously thick, red locks. He even brought up a hand to check his carefully sculpted do for good measure and sighed with relief, as if in the time it took for this discussion to occur that something had happened to it. But nope: no thinning going on here! Just tufts of expertly braided perfection. Phew!

He joined in the laughter that met him from the cell next to his. 

“Okay, I figured it out: you’re a dwarf, aren’t you?” He detected a smirk in her voice that didn’t exactly hide itself well in the underlying smugness that carried it.

“Is that your final answer then?”

“Well, let’s see: you covet coin, you bet like it’s your life’s blood, you’re stubborn and hot-tempered, and from the sound of things over there you’d rather die than lose your hair. Only one race in Middle Earth behaves the way you do, Mister Dwarf.”

Nori thought to deny it or tease her first but then figured what was the point? She had won the silly bet they made the first day they met. Her prize was supposed to be coin neither of them had on hand, but what she actually won in the time it took to get to know her was Nori’s heart. But he couldn’t tell her that. Mahal, what would she think of him? 

For him though, this enigmatic lass had kept herself at arm's length -- or rather _cell-length_ \-- and held defenses up strong and high enough that not even a dragon could hope to penetrate. But as they grew closer, Nori felt that he had been allowed a latter to grant him a peek over the edge of her realm of mystery and given what he saw over there, he was determined to break those walls down. She was like a mountain: strong, majestic, awe-inspiring, and possibly dangerous under the right conditions. But unspeakably beautiful in her spirit, which is what drew her to him in the first place. 

He’d been locked up for eight weeks. And even though they were spent inside a cell, they were the best eight weeks of his life. Nori fondly thought back to when it all started:

_It was a simple series of gestures involving opening a door, getting tossed inside, closing the door, and locking it. Each of which brought Nori farther and farther away from freedom._

_He growled and kicked at a pebble by his feet, sending it flying through the bars and skittering down the overpass just outside. He could hear the gentle tapping sound of the stone as it hopped lower and lower before it came to rest somewhere at the dark bottom. He waited until the guard disappeared and stalled for an additional ten minutes before he made his move._

_First, he measured the integrity of the bars and ran his hand along the iron, giving them a wiggle at various places. Naturally, they didn’t budge. The iron held firm and strong with no weak points to be found so charging into the thing would do absolutely nothing -- except make too much noise. Working out his makeshift lock pick that he kept safely tucked away in his beard, Nori started to get to work on the lock._

_It was located at an odd angle that challenged his height but that didn’t stop him from trying. Unfortunately though, he couldn’t get proper leverage to be able to adequately work the lock free, so with a disgruntled sigh, he retreated back into his cell and paced impatiently. He made a mental note to observe the guards's schedules so he knew how much time he'd had to himself and how much time would be received with an audience. But in the meantime, what could he do to pass the time? He didn’t know how long he’d be stuck in there and he was quite far from home. How long until word got out of Nori’s disappearance until the noble Dori was summoned to go fetch him?_

_Who knows. But he took comfort in knowing that no matter how mad his older brother would be at the unsurprising news, he’d always come for him. It was as close to a "normal" brotherly ritual as they'd ever get. All he had to do now was wait._

_“So, what’re you in for?” a muffled female voice asked from the other side of the wall disturbing him from this thoughts._

_Nori perked up in surprise; maids were rarely if ever thrown into the dungeons. Perhaps it was a mistake, or maybe she was a bored guard who just happened to be lingering on that side of the prison. The voice was sultry and a little deeper than the typical feminine lilt. In some strange way he felt drawn to it like the calm relaxing glow of sunbeams shining in through his bedroom window._

_“What’s it to ya?” he retorted defensively. Nori would have felt inclined to be more cordial, but he was in a foul mood and felt no need to explain himself, especially if she happened to be a guard. He did enough of that to his older brother until he had the sense to stop when it only served to bring either of them nowhere. He was always being caught for the same thing. And even though the trips to the cells became less and less frequent, it was still a drag when the sniper got sniped._

_“Relax, I’m just making conversation with you. If you don’t want to tell me, fine. I don’t care.”_

_Then why’d ya ask if you didn’t care? He wanted to say. But there didn’t appear to be anyone else in the dungeons with them. No one to be seen across the way in the three cells within his eyesight and he didn’t fancy taking a vow of silence with Mahal knows how long he’d be stuck in there all because his mouth got the better of him. Although Nori was the black sheep of the household, he still had some semblance of etiquette ingrained in his upbringing._

_Besides, he might as well have some sort of companion to pass time with otherwise he’d go mad with boredom and he didn't fancy chewing on his boot and cracking if the silence got to be too much. He decided to try again with a clear of his throat._

_“Thievery… I’m in for thievery.”_

_A pause. And then:_

_“What did you take?”_

_“Just a couple trinkets. I was gonna give ‘im back, though, but those buggers wouldn’t listen! Now I’m stuck here until my brothers bust me out.”_

_Her laugh was soft and gentle when it reached his ears and he still couldn't place her role, “Ah, you’re a borrower, aren’t you?”_

_Nori stood tall with pride. He appreciated the acknowledgement of the title he preferred to go by which was seldom used by those outside the trade. He knew it was all codswallop but it sure sounded much prettier to the ears than ‘“thief”._

_“S’right!” he confirmed proudly. “Everythin’ I borrow is always returned at some point or another -- unless they're keepsakes. That’s my whole philosophy.”_

_She giggled at that and he smiled thinking it was the cutest sounding tune to his ears and he felt bad for snapping at her. He always did enjoy making the lassies laugh. Even though it was usually done at his expense._

_“I take it this isn’t the first time you were caught.”_

_“Aye.”_

_“So, you must not be very good at it,” she chided._

_Nori’s head whipped over to the stone wall that separated them and puffed out his chest defiantly, “Oi! I’ll have you know that it’s been exactly ten months since I’ve graced the cells of a dungeon, lass!”_

_There was a gentle tinkering sound with her cackle following after, “Well, congratulations on setting your new record, good sir. Perhaps next time you’ll be back in eleven.”_

_Oh, she was sharp, this one. Quick-witted and quick-tongued. Nori could respect that feistiness in her, for he definitely had his own fair share of it to go around. He moved closer to the wall and sat down on his cot which rested alongside it and drew his knees to his chest to get comfortable._

_“All right then, ya cheeky thing. What’re you doing here? Bored on duty? Tormenting your poor locked up husband or just us prisoners?”_

_“I don’t have a husband,” she spat sourly. He noted how she avoided the other question he asked and assumed she was probably a guard. She didn’t speak like someone who belonged down here, and he didn’t press the husband matter based on how she grit it out with such distaste. He did find it strange that she chose to stay out of view, though._

_“Neither do I -- lucky us!” That earned him an airy laugh and he smiled in response, feeling calmer already. “What’s yer name?”_

_“Y/N. Yours?”_

_“Nori,” he returned. “What brings you to these dark depths, Miss Y/N? You a guard or a visitor?”_

_“No, I’m not a guard. I suppose you can say I live here.”_

_He quirked a braided brow in confusion. That didn’t sound right. Neither did her tone._

_“Live here? How?”_

_She sighed. "Let’s just say I’m a permanent resident.”_

_In other words, a “lifer”: those who were condemned to the dungeons for the remainder of their days until they kicked the bucket._

_Nori frowned, trying to fathom what kind of heinous act could land such a sweet-sounding maid into a life of dungeons. After being thrown in the cells over the years, he’d learned many things about many characters. Like what type of people usually dwelled within these walls, whether or not they were guilty of their crimes, if they’d do it again, which crimes landed you the most time and which ones resulted in a death sentence or life. And unless she had an unusually long life span, there was no point in wasting a woman away a cell for whatever it was that she did; usually, the trials would decree to just kill you and be done with it. It was uncommon for women to be prosecuted, but not unheard of._

_Now Nori was curious. Very curious. Just who_ **_was_ ** _this lass?_

_“What’re you in for, my lady?” he probed gently._

_He heard a huff and a soft jingling sound that sounded like keys._

_“I stole one of the king's guard's horses to retreat to the mountainside but got caught."_

**_That would garner at least a decade of time and five years of servitude to the guard, not a life sentence_   _in the dungeon_** _, Nori calculated. But because she was a maid she might have been spared, but even so something was off about her answer. He only stole pastries from a bakery, so his time was not nearly as severe, but they confiscated all of his treasures before they locked him in. So either she did something truly terrible that she was lying about, or someone has it out for her. His curiosity wanted him to press for more, but retrospectively he was growing suspicious of how at-the-ready her reply was. As if it had been rehearsed and recited many times to many others. There was something she wasn’t telling him. But they were strangers and that was fair, so he opted not to push the lie too obviously._

_“Life is quite a long time to serve,” he mused casually. “Are you an elf?”_

_“That’s an odd question to ask.”_

_“Well, are you?”_

_“Are_ **_you_** _?” she countered curtly._

_“Psh. I’m just makin’ conversation with ya, lass,” he retorted mockingly, using her own words. He smirked to himself at the face she must be making in the silence that followed._

_“I bet I can guess what you are before you’re bailed out,” Y/N baited._

_A wager? Oh, that caught his interest hook line and sinker! Nori’s eyes gleamed at the challenge, fully confident that he’d win and preening at the prospect of something worthwhile to pass the time while he waited to be free again._

_“Oh aye? And what do I get if I win?” Nori demanded. He knocked on the stone wall he was leaning against and noted that it wasn’t hollow. This fortress was quite solid and well-constructed, for human craftsmanship._

_“I’ll bet you all the coin I may have on my person, as well as any jewelry that I’m wearing.”_

_The coin she_ **_may_ ** _have. He noted that detail to himself with a snicker._

_“And how much coin is that?”_

_“Indeed. That’s what makes the reward so alluring, doesn’t it?” her sultry voice cooed. Nori chuckled. He highly doubted she carried any coin. Though that part of your pack wasn’t impounded once you were thrown into the cells, but he didn’t think she had any currency on hand as a hunch. Jewelry seemed more likely, but he was down to play the game whether or not her stakes were true to claim. The lass was so mysterious and she had him highly intrigued._

_It sure beat discompaniable silence and boring how’s-the-weather-lookin’? type chat, after all. He liked a lass that could keep things interesting._

_“Aye, aye. Very well. Now fer the rules--”_

_“Hold on!” her amused voice interjected. “What do I get if I win -- which I highly intend to do?”_

_Nori sneered at her confidence._

_“If you somehow manage to win, then you get all the coin in my coin purse and any one treasure of mine that ya want.”_

_Nori heard her hum in contemplation and he palmed his coin purse -- his empty coin purse -- with a mischievous grin. Yeah, he was a right rascal, he knew. But that’s what landed him in these types of predicaments in the first place. He had no shame about it either. “Do we have ourselves a deal?”_

_“Deal,” she confirmed. “Rules: Anything goes. No limit to questions as long as the answers are honest. But they can’t be obvious questions directly asking for information such as ‘what race are you’ or else it’ll spoil the fun. But just so we can make the game last, we can only make our guess once every four weeks.”_

_“Y’think I’ll be in here that long, eh? Or do you just not want to pony up the coin?”_

_“Is that defeat I hear over there?” she challenged._

_Nori bristled like a porcupine, “Fine! How will I know if yer telling the truth?”_

_She had the sense to sound insulted, “I give you my word. Is it safe to assume that I have yours as well?”_

_“Aye, lass. You have my word.” He even held up his hand in oath even though she couldn’t see it. Something told him this was going to be a very fun time indeed. She_ **_would_ ** _tell him what she was and how she got there, if he had anything to do about it._

_“Mind if I go first?” he asked._

_“If you dare,” Y/N’s smiling voice answered._

 

* * *

 

“Well?” Y/N prompted in a sing-song voice. Clearly she already knew the game was over, but she wanted the added satisfaction in hearing Nori admit that she was the winner. And being the sap that he had become, he threw his pride away and indulged her. 

With a pout he said, “Congratulations, lass. You won.” 

“I did? Really?” she marveled theatrically before bursting out into a fit of giggles. 

Nori had no way of knowing what this silly game would ultimately do to him. That a woman whom he hasn’t even laid eyes on would capture his heart so. Making him as vulnerable as a wee bairn. Nori never thought he’d ever fall in love. He certainly wasn’t looking to and wasn’t opposed to the notion, per se, but he just never fathomed that tying himself to anybody would be something he’d be doing. Like, ever.  

Until now… until _her_. 

“Mighty proud of yourself, are ya?” Nori chuckled, placing his palm on the wall as if trying to reach her through it. Oh, how he wanted to hold her hand. Just touch her in general. To confirm if these feelings were real or if he was in love with the idea that she represented. This was all so new and terrifying... and exciting, too. She filled him with such light in these dank depths and he looked forward to every day, wanting them to stretch on longer and longer.  

“Honestly? I had it figured out quite a long time ago.”

“How long ago?” Nori still hadn’t the foggiest on what she was. As they alternated providing their answers, he'd only been able to guess once. The only thing he knew was that she was not a human. He’d asked her many questions but nothing added up to what he was learning. She didn’t speak like anybody he knew of, but there was a hidden wisdom in her voice to insinuate that she knew enough of the world to have been in it for quite some time. Or perhaps she was just highly intelligent in the ways of the how the world worked -- how it _really_ worked. 

“Since before you were thrown in your cell. I overheard the guards talking about a new dwarven occupant coming in.”

Nori’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. This type of under-handed slight was something else he could respect her conducting. But he still felt the need to tease her about it. 

“Why, you dirty little sneak! You took me for a fool!” 

“I’m sorryyy!” she laughed in the most unapologetic way possible. Mahal, she was a lass after his own heart, after all. 

“To think my own cellmate would be conspiring against me,” he shook his head. "We're supposed to be a team! Whose side are you on?"

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t have any coin on me.”

“You cheated about that, too!? Blessed Mahal!” Then with an added chuckle as she doubled over at his being over-dramatic about it, “I don’t have any either, lass, so it serves ya right!”

“Not a single coin, huh? What about that treasure you mentioned?”

“The guards took ‘em. I’ll have to delve into my private stash.”

She snorted, “ _More_ borrowed goods? Do you own anything that doesn't belong to someone else?” He could clearly picture the lass with her hands on her hips as she said this, with a raised eyebrow. He didn't care for scolding on his best days, but he would just die to catch a glimpse of what her expression would be like glowering at him, knowing it wouldn't be serious but something that could evolve into play. Maybe into a scolding of a more pleasurable favor... but that was just his wishful thinking. Those kinds of thoughts tended to come more and more frequent as of late. 

He opened his mouth and then closed it. Well, his heart was up for grabs for one thing. Stroking his chin in thought as his mind worked through his internal catalog of everything he owned, “Well, not exactly.”

“Uh-huh. I thought as much. It’s fine. Since I cheated, consider the rewards forfeit. Deal?”

“Deal, ye wee sly thing.” He said in a heavy accent, because she had mentioned once that she fancied it.  

“Oh, I quite like you,” she giggled. “You’re such a wonderful dwarf.” 

Nori’s cheeks flushed from the compliment. If only she knew how much those words meant to him. He couldn't stop himself from responding in earnest, “I quite like you, too. Very much.” 

They shared a moment of peace and Nori thought of all the conversations they shared up to this point; thankful for the opportunity to get to know someone so closely and intimately as they have. Under normal circumstances, Nori wouldn’t have given anyone the time of day of getting close to him. He was much too busy with his own things to do than worry about such nonsense. But he wondered if he and Y/N had met under different conditions if they would have gotten along as well as they did now. Well, that would depend on a multitude of different things, wouldn’t it. If she was an elf, he knew he most certainly wouldn’t dream of… but wait, if she _was_ then he...

Nori grabbed at his heart in momentary conflict. His feelings for her filled him up with such warmth and meaning and value. It was unlike anything he felt for anyone; it was like a bond budding in his soul. And she was taking it over like flowers in a desert, turning it into a garden filled with only her. He realized with a start that if he was able to look at Y/N now and if she just so happened to be an elf maid, he knew he would still love her. Not that it mattered what she was now, but Nori had to admit he was deeply curious still. 

They shared many stories, questions, jokes, and songs together over the weeks. They ate together, complained about the food together, washed together-- Well, maybe not physically together, but even with the wall to partition them, he considered everything they did was being done together. He told her things not even his own brothers knew about him. And she had told him very interesting details of her life as well, but all of them were fragmented; vague. She was still keeping her guard up. For the game? Nori didn’t know. But since it was over, maybe she’d finally feel free to tell him. 

“Y/N? All games aside, I’d like to ask ya something, if I may.”

She knew what he wanted to ask. The loud silence stretching between them seemed to suggest that. 

“Nori, I… you don’t need to know.”

He thumbed the roughened stone wall in small circles, pretending it was her cheek. Wondering how smooth it was in comparison. He really wanted to hold her in his arms. They ached for her to fill them. 

“No, I don’t. But I _want_ to know. Please? What harm could come from my learning what you are? I like you, lass, and of all the things I’ve done in my life, I’m the last person to pass judgement.” 

Y/N didn’t say anything for a long, long time. Much longer than what Nori was comfortable with and his heart quickened in worry in the deafening quiet. Had he pushed her away? Was he too forceful? He knew Y/N was a woman who had many secrets and likely had good reason in keeping them. But he had hoped that she learned to trust him in these past weeks, as he had with her. He couldn’t understand why that was so important to him and why he cared so much about her letting him in, but he wanted her to.  

“Okay,” she breathed weakly. “Okay.”

Nori grinned widely and opened his ears. All of a sudden very nervous and excited. Finally her walls coming down; trusting him enough to let him into her mysterious world. And the honor of knowing that he was probably the only one given such faith and trust filled him with immense male satisfaction. 

“Okay. The truth is, I’m... I conjured a beast for a tyrant king that destroyed an entire village.”

He blinked, not knowing whether she was being serious or teasing him, but he laughed nervously anyway. When he was only met with a sharp silence, he awkwardly cleared his throat. 

“Truly?” 

“More or less,” she replied flatly. 

He made a sound of acknowledgement, but said nothing else; he didn’t know what to say. Nori's mind scrambled to put the pieces together. He’d never met a conjurer before. Didn’t even know such beings existed at all. Perhaps she _was_ teasing him, but he no longer wished to dwell on the whys or hows. It was obvious there was more to it and he had come this far, he didn’t want her to flee from him now. 

He tapped his chin with his knuckles trying to think which species in Middle Earth was a conjurer. Elves? Could there be a chance she was a dwarf? Maybe she was a half-breed--

“I’m a witch, Nori,” she clarified as if she sensed his thoughts. 

He blushed furiously, concerned that maybe she was capable of reading his mind and was correcting him. Then he paled. If she reads minds then she must have seen how he felt and… oh no. The obscene dreams and thoughts he’s been having about her recently with his newfound emotions for her blooming and strengthening. OH NO, NOT THAT! How much had she seen? How much does she know!? He had to check before he went off and died of embarrassment. 

“Oh, I see. Um. Can you… uh, y’know... read minds?” Nori winced while he asked, fearing her answer. 

“No, only high elves can communicate telepathically,” she replied as if that was the last thing she expected him to respond with. “Why?” 

PHEW. 

Well, thank goodness for that! His thoughts were safe from her, for now. 

With that mini panic out of the way Nori slumped his forehead against the cool stone and closed his eyes and smiled to himself. Silently thanking her for always being honest with him. The news of what she was not even a main concern of his anymore. He just wanted to know all about her. What else made her laugh? What was her childhood like? What are her favorite foods? He wanted to know it all so he could give them to her. 

“I don’t believe you.”

He heard her suck her teeth in response as if she was annoyed.

“... you don’t believe what? Witches still exist. We may be a dying breed, but we still--”

“I don’t believe that you’re capable of destroying a village.”

“And how do you know what I’m capable of?” she replied tersely. Nori ignored the hostility in her voice because he knew that it derived from a place of fear. Witches weren’t looked kindly upon in basically any race. Their numbers were very few due to their reputation of being dark arts masters and evil-doers, but Y/N didn’t fit the bill to any of that. And more over, Nori just knew in his bones that she was good. 

If he were to be honest with himself, Nori was a coward. Always was. Most dwarrow wouldn’t dare shy away from confrontation or danger, but Nori? He’d beat feet at the first sign of it. This shameful behavior probably came from a lifestyle of being the borrower that he was. Or maybe it was due to growing up in a household full of coddling do-gooders who’d never once seen battle like most of his kin had.

But Y/N made him feel strong. Like he _could_ be brave if he needed to be. If not for him, then for her. Especially for her. 

Y/N was kind, considerate, and warm. There was a light in her that Nori was drawn to and felt worthy of protecting. He could feel it in her voice. He could sense it in his heart. She may be a witch, but it didn’t change the fact that he loved her. She accepted him and he accepted her and that’s all that mattered. Nori just had to find a way to make her believe that.

“Because I know ya, lass. I know criminals and have been celled up with evil people many times. And you aren’t like them. I know we haven’t seen each other, but even I can recognize how special you are. Yer certainly special to me.”

“Oh, Nori…” her voice broke. “Sweet Nori… I…”

“I accept you as you are, Y/N. And I’m a dwarf; there’s no changin’ my mind once it’s set! So, I accept ya warts n’ all -- is that true, by the way? Y’got any warts I need to know about?” He teased lightheartedly, putting his accent to good use. 

He heard her sniffle and laugh at that, pleased that he could clear the tension on this obviously sensitive topic, “No, that’s a myth. Oh, Nori I’ve waited so long for someone to say that. But… you don’t know the whole story.”

He adjusted his sitting position so that he was leaning against the wall, his hand still upon it. Stroking it, pretending it was her face as he often fantasized. He wondered if she ever did the same on her side of the wall.

“I’d like to know it,” he whispered. “And I’d like to better understand you. You’ve honored me thus far with all that you divulged but I won’t press ya on it unless you want to tell me.”  

“How much do you know about witches?”

“I only know rumors. I’d prefer to hear the truth from a witch herself.” 

She sighed deeply. Once. Twice. A strangled sound as if she were battling with herself. Nori's heart hammered wildly in his chest at the uncertainty. She was unpredictable. And his prying could only serve to bring them closer or push them apart. 

Voice wavering, Y/N whispered, “What I’m about to tell you I haven’t told anyone. I doubt there is a soul left alive that even knows the truth anymore regardless.”

Nori wanted to hold her to him and stroke her hair and weave his fingers into her scalp to soothe her and her quivering voice. Even though she was opening up to him now, he felt a heavy, unstable tension in the air as if he were trying to coax a wild stallion not to bolt before he had time to tame it. One wrong word, one wrong sound, might send her fleeting away never to open up again. He let her set the pace and didn’t dare speak unless spoken to with inquiry. 

“I’ve been in this dungeon well over a hundred years now, Nori. Everyone in this village descended from those who survived knows who I am even though they’ve never seen me. But no one knows what happened the day my life was condemned to this cell. All except for one.” She finished bitterly. 

Nori wanted to offer comfort. He wanted to provide soothing words of support and she only seemed to birth more questions that he needed answered, but the very threshold on which that liberty gravitated on was as fragile as thinned ice and he couldn’t risk it so he kept his yap shut.

Y/N collected her thoughts as she reached back into her past and Nori could only feel humbled and honored. And least of all anxious. He didn’t know what to expect from this testimony. And while Y/N began to tell her story, Nori closed his eyes and let her lead him there with her hand in hand. 

 

* * *

 

Nori was flabbergasted. 

The fact that Y/N really did assist in conjuring a smoke beast wasn’t what was so disconcerting to him, but the events that led up to it had left him bereft of words. He felt… well, he felt upset for her. Enraged and vindictive on what transpired. And now he finally understood why Y/N opted for lying on the reason why she was cooped up here and why she was so reluctant with trusting people. She had fallen in love with a man who she thought had loved her in return. But instead had used and wronged her in the most despicable way. 

In summation, after finding out what Y/N was, the man had pretended to court her and 'it had to be done in secret to protect her'; painting up a beautiful future for them with him as king and her as his queen. If only he wasn’t fourth in line for the throne. If only his older brothers weren’t ‘so horrid’ in impugning the integrity of him to their people. If only he found a way to show that he was capable of ruling. That he was worthy.

And thus, he planned to stage a little accident. With Y/N’s help, she would be summon a smoke beast in which -- she thought -- would only serve to scare the villagers enough until her man charged in to defend them. Surely then his brothers and people would see he was worthy to rule his own kingdom. But what Y/N didn’t know was that he would be controlling this beast to wreak havoc on the villagers, ultimately killing his brothers, some of the townsfolk, leaving him the only remaining, rightful heir to rule after saving them from this beast that the 'wretched witch' had cursed them with. 

Using his silver tongue and her blinded love for him, he managed to trick her into giving him her heart -- her power source -- as a token of proof on her love for him. And after she realized what she had done, it was too late to do anything about it. And then the man she loved tossed her into a cage, to ensure that she didn’t jeopardize his rule or take back her power from him. 

Since she was a witch, it wasn’t hard to convince the others on who the possible culprit of the massacre was. And she's been here ever since. 

Red with anger, still unsure of how it all worked, Nori asked, “How can he do that? How could that even be possible?”

“Well, I thought he loved me so I removed my heart and gave it to him. But then he used its power to take control of the beast that killed people so he could instate his position and then he framed me for it. I’m the only one who knows what he did, and he locked me up so I wouldn’t get in the way.”

“He-he’s still alive?! I thought he was a human. If you’ve been here for over a hundred years, he oughta be dust and bones by now.”

“I’m not sure. The magic of my heart is enough to sustain mortal lives beyond their usual capacity, but I have no way of knowing for sure whether or not he’s still alive. If he isn’t then he’s likely passed down my heart to one of his heirs, if he had any. And if he didn’t then… when his time comes, he’d undoubtedly make sure no one else would have use of my heart if it wasn’t him. In which case, I’d...”

That implication had Nori risking a sensitive question he feared asking but asked anyway. 

“I mean no offense by askin’, but… why would he keep you alive if all he needed was your heart?”

“The heart is tied to the soul of the witch; if the soul dies, the heart will follow and vice versa. I’m only kept alive so that he can continue using my powers -- without my interference. He wouldn’t risk keeping me at his kingdom should I escape or persuade others to aid my escape.”

Why that right sodding bastard! Nori growled, wanting to wring that jacksie’s neck. 

“Nori!” Y/N chided. Ah, did he say that out loud? 

“Sorry, lass. It just makes me so enraged. I can’t believe anybody could take advantage of you like that! Especially after you gave him such a precious piece of you. As far as I’m concerned, he took that beautiful heart of yers and crushed it, he did! He’s the one who needs to pay for what he’s done, not you! And I’d gladly shove my axe so far up his arse it knocks his bleeding teeth out.” 

Nori didn’t realize it at the time, but he went off on a tangent. Cursing foul things at the man in Khuzdul and everything he would do to him, vowing that he would somehow see that he gets his arse handed to him, all the while Y/N listened on quietly until Nori calmed down and realized what a fool of himself that he made. 

Or that it would prompt the discussion that followed.

“I’m touched that you would go to such lengths just to defend my honor and uphold justice on my behalf. It... warms my heart knowing that you care so. Truly,” Y/N admitted distantly. 

Nori blushed and found something to fiddle with; an invisible loose string on his tunic. 

“There isn’t a thing in this world I wouldn’t do for you, lass. If only to be graced by just one smile from your lips -- I’d gladly do it in a heartbeat. Whatever you want, it's yers.”

Y/N hesitated. 

“Nori, why do you like me?” It was such an innocent, basic, fundamental question. But Y/N seemed genuinely curious and Nori had no skill to throw together any romantic words to even come close to describing the whys of it all. They'd mildly flirted in the past, but it was more of a tiptoe. Never had they ever demanded confirmation of one another's affections. 

He shrugged and scratched the back of his neck and moved his fiddling fingers up to the middle braid of his beard as he suddenly grew sheepish. “Because you’re you. Why does anyone like anybody else if not because of who they are?”

“…how strongly do you like me, Nori?”

His heart thumped up wildly into his throat in this moment of truth. This was his chance to come clean and find out. But he was confounded in thinking that she’d find him ridiculous in his divulging. No. He was not going to tell her. He was not going to tell her. Nope. No way. She didn’t need to know. In fact, he should keep it simple and say--

“I’m in love with you.”

_Oh, you complete and utter idiot._

“Don’t,” her pained voice replied. 

Ah, the double whammy: kick himself in the dirt and with the help of her boot he’d stay there face down and vulnerable in his weakness. 

Out of sorts, and well out of his element, he glared. “Don’t what?”

“Whatever you think you’re feeling for me, just… don’t. Nothing good will come of it and you’d only be wasting your time.”

Nori huffed and kicked his feet out and crossed them at the ankles with an angry thud. He was not one to be ordered around and be told what to do. He’d grown up with it and spent his whole life rebelling against the very notion. But to hear the one you love tell you not to love them? Well, that was a new pain that Nori felt only natural to rebel against, too. 

Even now, he could hear his Amad and older brother: Don’t do _this_! Don’t do  _that_! 

What good are rules if they are easily broken? What good is a made bed if it’s only going to get messed up again? What good is a heart if you can never use it?

“Don’t tell me how to feel. I know my heart and I don’t care if you’re a witch or an elf, or even a man -- my feelings would be the same. You think I have any control over this?” The words just came tumbling on out. He'd bottled them up for so long that they now overflowed until he said his piece. 

“Nori--”

“Well, I don’t! I crave ya, Y/N. I can’t stop myself. I crave ya like  _mad_ , I do.” He sighed, “Maybe more than I should all things considered… I didn’t expect you to feel anything more towards me, lass. But my heart feels what it feels and it was time I told you anyway.” Nori thought on how he’d never once even laid eyes on the lady. It was madness. He knew that. But he couldn’t help it. His heart and body wanted what it wanted. And they wanted her. He also couldn’t help feeling bitter towards the lass now that he finally told her and how ill received it was. She wasn’t displaying any interest in him and he never was one to handle rejection well. But when her voice next reached him, he didn’t miss the longing or the desperation in her words which stated how she truly felt in return. Which gave him a frightening dose of hope. 

“Nori, don’t misunderstand… I really like you -- truly I do, enough so that it scares me to pieces -- but I’m bound to these cells and I’ll never be getting out. You’ll be free as soon as your brother gets here. What life could we possibly have with the way things are? No matter how you look at it, and no matter how we may feel for one another, we can’t be together.”

Nori sighed. He sighed good and deep. 

The logic was like stones in his heart, weighing him down into the waters of his soul until he drowned in the words. But Mahal, she was right. He wouldn’t be here forever. And even if he was, it’s not like the guards would pair them up in the same cell. It’s not like they were going to be granted marriage and this was no place to live happily in. No place to raise that family she wished she had. Who was he fooling? There was no way they could have a future together. But damn it all he still wanted to… he truly bloody did. 

“If things were different,” he asked with useless hope. “Would I have a chance with you at all?”

He didn’t give her a chance to answer as he continued on.

“I would have done it the right way: I would have offered you a worthy treasure -- one that I didn’t borrow, but one that I made with my own hands -- and I would have asked to court you just so I could learn more about you and see you every day. I would listen to yer lovely voice sing to me, and I would take you to meet my brothers and put a courting braid in your hair so everyone who saw you knew you were being well taken care of… I’d treat you with all the love and happiness you deserved from that troll’s arse of a ‘king’ who hurt you. I’d replace all the sadness and memories of him with our own so you’d know nothing but my heart and what it feels for you.” 

He blinked against the sharp pain appearing in his eyes and dragged a hand over his face as he fought the urge not to tear up at how unfair this was. He felt like such a nancy, even though he had full privacy and she couldn’t see him. 

“I would have said yes,” her lovely voice declared sadly. “If anyone could have a chance with me, it’d be you. I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way again for anyone, and it’s different with you, Nori. I feel like for the first time in years, I’m finally home.”

Nori tightened in on himself. He thought he’d be happy to hear those words and the confirmation that his love wasn’t unrequited, but knowing that it was all pointless only made him hurt as if she rejected him. He didn’t want a fantasy future. He didn’t want a beautiful idea of what they could be; you can’t grow old with that. 

He fiercely wiped at his face with the back of his sleeve and swallowed his pride, along with the heart lodged in his throat. 

“I just wish I could be with you,” he murmured. “Mahal, I know it’s mad but despite it all I just wish I could be with you.” 

He heard her take in a breath. 

“Then be with me now. Here. While we can.”

His head lolled on his shoulder in her direction, feeling absolutely depleted and saying nothing. This was as close as it was going to be for them. Separated by a stone wall taking comfort and joy from each other’s kind words and heartfelt confessions until Nori gets released and Y/N remains just where she was. And Nori would leave a broken lad who’d had his first taste of love only to be forced to leave it behind, locked away and forgotten. 

What a cruel twist of fate this was. He was told once that love hurts, but he never thought it would be quite  _this_ painful. Is it better to have never found love in her at all? Who the hell knew. Right now he almost wished he hadn’t ever met her. That he chose never to indulge in conversation those several weeks ago.

“Nori?”

He readjusted himself so that he was laying down on his cot, propping his arm under his head for support as he stared unseeing at the ceiling. He also wished he had his pipe; he could sure use a smoke right about now. Or a drink. Yeah, definitely a drink. 

“What, dear Y/N.”

“What’re you doing?” 

“Resting.” 

He heard a shuffle and then her voice sounded closer to him as if she had moved against the other side of the wall now, just on the other side of him, and he turned his head towards her. It was a good thing the guards had made their last rounds for the night. Any minute now Nori would was likely to either burst into tears or charge the bars in hopes to brawl his frustrations out. 

“Laying down on your cot?” her voice as lowered as if they might be overheard, even when there was no risk for it. 

“Aye.”

“I’m laying naked on top of you.”

Nori’s breath hitched and felt his body heat up at the husky drawl in her words and the visuals that came pouring in behind them. His brown eyes widened in surprise. He could easily imagine her here with him, feeling her weight straddling his hips as she sunk down on his body. Oh, yes. He very much wanted her there. Especially now. 

“I feel you, lass…” he whispered. His hands clenched into fists as his thigh muscles tightened in reflex. To his erotic delight, she continued on. 

“I’m running my hands across your chest; now up your neck, sifting my fingers into your thick beard.” 

Her voice dripped like honey and Nori groaned, turning to solid stone in his trousers where the rest of his blood beelined to that wasn’t already in his face from her bold choice of words. Using his own hand, he gave his beard a tug as he imagined she would and gasped at the pleasurable jolt it elicited while his hips surged upward on impulse. His body straining for hers. 

The mating heat between them charged in the air instantly like a tangible vapor thick and heavy and he knew she could feel it too based on how hoarse she sounded. 

“Where are you hands, Nori?” she purred.  

Oh, wouldn’t she like to know. He bit his lip when he cupped himself on his clothed bulge and himself gave a couple lush squeezes as his eyes clenched shut. “On yer hips. Squeezin’ that bonnie arse of yers.” In his mind, his hands worked those plush, malleable mounds of flesh, giving a smack on each cheek, then together, and grinding her into him so she could clearly feel his want for her and just how hard she could make him. 

His arousal throbbed like it was doing push-ups when he heard her whimper of pleasure and he wondered what she was doing over there. Was she touching herself like he was? Was she getting wet and ready for him? He got excited just at the thought. 

If this was all that they could have, all that they could share, then yes. He would be with her here. Now. Just like this. He would claim her just like this.  

Nori started undoing his trouser strings when her voice carried over again, heavier than it was before, “Hold me there. I’m grinding my hips on yours and leaning down to taste your lips. My mouth is on yours, now licking your bottom lip--” With a frustrated tugging movement, he tore the strings from their ties and wrenched his trousers down his hips just under where his erection sprung free. His breath easing in and out in deep puffs and pants. 

“--my fingers are in your hair while I’m kissing you. I’m… mmm, rolling against your hardness between my slickened heat.” Her voice was strained with her own arousal and Nori, having never once  _ever_ heard a lass speak like this -- least of all to him -- was becoming as hot as a furnace at every word, sound, and mental image coming out of her.  

“Sweet Mahal,” he shivered as his arousal bobbed in the air. Nori’s hand clutched the thick shaft by the base ready to pound himself into oblivion but then released his hold. No, he didn’t want to touch himself unless it was the same way Y/N was doing so. After licking his hand, he curved his palm and fingers and slid it up and down his shaft to mimic her description. Yes… he felt her heat on him all over his body and his skin broke out into a sheen of sweat. He felt her hot core pressed snugly against his aching, hard length as she grinded on him so wantonly. 

He licked his lips as he envisioned kissing her, feeling the enticing pressure of her lips on his own while he cupped her bottom in his hands, keeping her  _right there_ on his lap and then drifting them up into her hair to cup the back of her head. 

“My tongue is in your mouth,” she panted. “I feel your hands slip in my hair.”

 _Oh, yeah_ , she was  _so_ here with him.

“You taste so sweet, lass,” Nori moaned, undulating his body while his other hand gripped his thigh. “My hands slide down your curves, then back up, and I take your lovely breasts in my hands and squeeze.”

“ _Yes_!” Her breathy moan sends electricity straight to his cock, but he dares not stroke himself yet the way his body wanted him to, even as an angry tear formed at his reddening tip when he continued to grind his hand exactly the same she described. 

He turns his face to the wall, his breath coming and going in ragged pants as he refrains from rutting against the thing and taking her too soon. It was the strangest thing... he was receiving images of her in his mind's eye; or images of what he thought to be her. They were beautiful watercolors like that of a hazy dreamscape, and part of him wondered if she was putting them there somehow. Or maybe they _both_ were making magic. Oh, he really like that.

“Oh, Nori! Put them in your mouth,” she commands within a very feminine mewl. 

“When I’m good n’ ready,” he defied, grinding his hand down on himself harder in time with her frustrated whine.  

“W-what’re you doing to me?” Y/N pleaded. Nori arched his back imagining her there. Her breasts in his hands, writhing on him, slick with need. Begging and aching for a release. Wanting  _him_ to be the one who would give it to her. 

He chuckled, “I bury my face between your breasts and lick ya from the center.” Yes, her nipples would be tight, hard pebbles from that. “I take yer buds between my thumb and finger and pinch; rolling them in circles.”

“And then?” she whispers.

What he wanted to do was to shove his face in between them and ravish her soft skin with his beard right in between her chest and suckle her like a newborn bairn. But not yet. 

“Then I lick my way up that throat of yours and taste the sweet skin there.” He imagined her angling her head just so, to give him the best access. 

She giggles with delight as if he tickled her, “I feel your beard rasping against my neck. I love it.”

His voice purrs with male dwarven satisfaction upon receiving one of the highest of compliments the one you fancy could bestow. He’d love to elicit all kinds of sounds from her through proper use of his beard and putting it in just the right places with just the right pressure. Maybe have her hands holding on for dear life while she rode him--

Oh, that was too much. He was already about to burst. His cupped hand increased in speed and Nori almost doesn’t catch it in time. With a hiss he wrenches his hand away and his arousal was swollen and angry.

“Nooo, why’d you stop?” she protested.

He cocks a braided eyebrow at her, “How’d you know what I did.”

“I-I don’t know…” she sounded baffled by it, herself. “I just knew. I think I might be able to see you in my mind, sort of. Not clearly, but... is your hair the color of fire?” Intrigued by the connection they were obviously sharing, Nori smiled wide and closed his eyes. His hands were holding her off of his swollen member and his face was in the crook of her neck. It was reddened by the affection of his beard. 

"Aye, lass, it is. Is this your magic at work then?"

He heard her giggled but saw a vision in his mind's eye as if she were touching his cheek, he saw himself lean into it lovingly, "I don't know, this has never happened to me before."

“Mmm, I think it’s about time I make my own magic with ya. I seem to have neglected these handful of beauties long enough, I think.” His nose grazed over the heaving tops of her breasts like a feather and her sigh was released in a shiver. As the ghost of their passion had begun to fade, it quickly sprung back to life the moment they resumed. Y/N moaned softly in anticipation, eager for his mouth on her sensitive flesh.

At last, Nori saw himself allowing a taste as he slipped a perky bud into his mouth. He moaned, sucking it in, “I’m taking you into my mouth now, lass,” he growled. 

He drew in both of her perky nipples into his mouth and allowed his teeth to very gently graze them. He released them both and latched onto the left breast, paying it honorable attention while his hand worked out the rest and slowly, his hand had returned to his aching shaft just as Y/N's panting voice squeaked delightfully in his ears, "I'm rocking against you, Nori. I have to feel you."

He grinded back carefully, even though the pace was slower, as if she was the one guiding his hand.  

The urge to get even closer to her was pounding in his blood. He needed to claim her, take her as his own. But he wanted to pace himself so they both would enjoy this and, more so, take care of her first. But as they continued whispering and grunting out their ministrations and naughty outpouring sentiments as they touched themselves, Nori's self-control was slipping. Especially when Y/N began to beg. And he, ever her doting dwarrow, was more than inclined to please.  

“Oh, Nori, please! I can’t stand it!” she pleads. He could actually hear her struggling and writhing on the other side of the wall, “I'm ready for you, take me already! _Please_.”

With a low growl, Nori spits into his hand and closes it into a tightly fisted ‘o’ shape before positioning it over his cock and he heard her breathing heavily from the other side waiting for him.  _Ready_ for him.  _Begging_ for him to claim her as his.

“Rise on your knees, love.”

“Okay,” she complies.

“I grab onto your hips and slide your tight, wet heat over my thick cock; deeper… ah! And deeper still.” Nori struggled with the words while he slowly slid his own fist downward on himself in tandem, seeing him stretching her inch by inch from tip to hilt until he bottomed out in his mind's eye. They both let out a lengthy moan and his cock was pulsing heavily in his tight grip. Without missing a beat, he roughly and starts pumping, knowing exactly what they needed. “Oh, Y/N…” he groaned before barking out a higher octave moan.  

“You feel so good!” she squeaks. "Can we go faster?"

“Aye, love,” he groans and complies, snapping his hips up while imagining the sight of her hands on his chest for support, bouncing on top of him with his hands gripping her by the waist lifting and lowering her sweaty, slickened body to slide up and down on him while they sealed their bond. He would give his naughty witch lass a sharp spank while she-- 

When he heard her do it to herself from her side of the wall, he almost burst right then and there. 

Marveling at the sexiness of how much they were synced to each other from whatever magic they were making, he could feel his soul stirring and opening up her, reeling Y/N into an imprint that he would proudly carry with him everywhere he went.  

“YES! Nori, oh Nori, keep going! Don’t stop! Good gods,” she mewled with obvious restraint. He was certain she would scream if she didn’t stop herself, and even though it would draw unwanted attention, he couldn’t hope but wish to hear it anyway. 

“Ride me, lass.” Mahal, he was literally growling it. He could feel her spirit and his own mingling in the air together in a profoundly mystical way that he didn't bother to try and understand. His love for her strengthened tenfold and he could feel her love for him as he knew she could feel his.  

“Yes! Gods, Nori, I feel you in me. All around me.”

"Yer mine, Y/N.  _Say it_. You’re all mine!” 

“I’m yours, Nori! All yours!” she shrieked. She inhaled with a gasp and exhaled with an erotic moan. Of its own accord, Nori's other hand shot up into his beard and latched on with a sharp tug, causing him to cry out in ecstasy. 

Nori was completely overtaken and overwhelmed at the power they were wielding as they bonded to one another in spirit. Overtaken by his own visuals and the sounds of Y/N pleasuring herself on the other side of the wall something wordless slipped into place, as if they both were on the same plane and knew exactly what the other was doing. Neither of them said anything further as they allowed their lust and bodies to speak for them. The skin-slapping sound from Nori’s hand pounding his thick length coupled with the satisfyingly wet squelches of Y/N’s fingers and hand coming into contact as she worked herself were the only sounds they could hear echoing through the cells. 

There was no going back for him now. She was his and he was hers. It didn't matter that they weren't physically intimate because what they were sharing now was far more profound than that. 

“N-Nori,” she cried out suddenly. “I’m close!”

His eyes rolled back as his mouth hung open as he panted for air. His arm ceased movement and his hips took up to thrusting and pumping up into his tight fist while his excitement leaked down his length gathering even more slickness and friction. He imagined it was her wetness dripping down on him. Her sweet, soaking folds milking him for everything he had. He yelped in pleasure at how wonderful being in her heat would be but relished in the significant marking of their souls intertwining, which came as a close second.

He was panting and grunting like an animal, “Take yer pleasure on me, my Y/N!”

Nori shuddered as her moans got higher and higher pitched.  _Aye, that’s right_ , he thought to her darkly.  _Take me! Mark me as yer own!_ His head pitched back in a deep roar while he listened to her climb higher and higher to her climax. 

“That’s it! Ride me; harder!” he called deeply. Nori wasn’t able to hold out for much longer, but he wanted her to reach satisfaction first; he was doing all he could to fight his own back as he continued to leak profusely, dangerously close to exploding all over himself. 

A few glorious moments later, Y/N screamed his name when she finally came undone and the image in his mind's eye of her head tossing back and her breasts thrust forward while her back arch had him lurching forward in a shout as he allowed himself to arrive at his own powerful release with her.

“Ohhh, Mahal…” he grunted through clenched teeth before air broke out of his lungs in a rush. There was a spattering of filthy Khuzdul lover’s praises leaving his lips soon after. He continued to pump himself through the orgasm as his seed jetted on and on in heavy strings over his hand and stomach -- by his beard, had he come twice?! Y/N’s orgasm also seemed to be dragging on as they remained in tune until the very end. He gave a final pump and sighed with a shiver as the last drop of his come expelled and his member began to soften in his loosening grip. Only then did his slip himself free.

His heart was filled with love and an indistinguishable imprint. Nori slumped back against his cot in cool sweat as his chest rose and fell deeply and his limbs grew slack with exhaustion. Well, masturbation would certainly never be the same. Because each time he did it would be akin to making love to her, even if… she wasn’t here with him. He could hear the satisfied feminine sighs being reciprocated from Y/N’s cell and he smirked, content and pleased. 

“I melt into a puddle all over you...” Y/N’s spent voice drifted after a few beats of silence.

What started as a giggle erupted into shared laughter and he longed to hold her in his arms and kiss her forehead. Then her temple, then come home at her lips while he stroked her hair and felt her heartbeat against his chest. He opted to hold himself, if anything to give him something to hang on to but the impressive load on his stomach and torso had him settling for the visual embrace instead. 

“I’m with you, Nori,” she sighed. 

“And I, you. For always, my Y/N.” He kissed the wall. 

Nori knew this was as close to being fully intimate as they would ever get together. Soon, reality would rear its ugly head and this eight week dream would come to an end. But for now, Nori was enjoying being in love with his witchy lass and he would hang onto their time together for as long as they had.

He could only hope this beautiful dream would be everlasting. But that all depended on his brother. With any luck, he'd get lost. Or, Nori thought, finally have the common sense to disown him and leave him with his bliss. 

Ah... a lad can dream.

 

* * *

 

But alas, all dreams must end. Nori’s just happened to end two weeks after he made love to his lass for the first time. They were bonded together in soul even though they didn’t physically consummate their love. The gravity of their actions in sharing their intimacy spiritually was significant enough for Nori to understand that he wore her mark on him like a tattoo; forever present, irremovable. Something that gave him great pride to show off. 

With a cringe, he could hear that shrill voice a mile away and by his beard he wished it  _were_ miles away. But no such luck there. His brother, Dori, was finally here and still yapping about even when he arrived at the cell door.

“Nori, I’ve had it up to here with your foolishness! By my beard, when will this incorrigible behavior  _cease_?!” he scolded. Ugh, he was worse than Amad and just as much as a worry wart. Shoulda been born a dwarrowdam, Nori thought frequently. The lad complained about as much as one. 

Despite getting that stale talking to from his older brother, Nori always relished the joy of being granted freedom once again, but this time he didn’t need to scratch his head and wonder why he wasn’t feeling so pleased about it now. Y/N… He looked at the wall that separated them. He wouldn’t be able to talk to her anymore. He wouldn’t be able to hear her laugh, hear her sigh, hear her humming to him, or telling him stories. He wouldn't be able to make love to her. Why did Dori have to come so soon? Ten weeks was not enough. He wanted forever. 

“Nori, are you even listening to me?”

Rolling his eyes and shooting him a glare that was annoyingly ignored, Nori spat, “Yeah, yeah, I hear ya just fine!”

Dori frowned and shook his head. “Impossible, you are. I’m going to go talk to the guard and see what the damage is and I’ll be right back -- I oughta just leave you here a while longer if the trip wasn’t such a chore. To think our little Ori looks up to  _you_ ,” he muttered as he stomped off. 

Nori  _wished_ he would leave him here longer. But even if he said anything, he knew that wouldn’t happen. It was an unspoken ritual between them that would never end. Nori could still hear his brother rambling away as he faded into the distance and he sighed with resignation once he was out of earshot. 

Y/N laughed softly, “Well, your brother certainly seems…”

“Like an overbearing mother hen on a rampage?” Nori offered in distaste. He only said it to get her to laugh again and was pleased when his efforts were successful. 

“I was going to say endearing.”

“ _Endearing_?!” he echoed incredulously, feeling oddly jealous at the too-kind compliment. “I believe the word yer searching for is ‘annoying’, love.”

Another giggle and then companionable silence. Yeah, right. More like a heart-wrenching, crushing quiet. Never had Nori ever longed for more time in a cell before now. His brother had sprung him out of more scrapes than he’d care to admit, so the ol’ pro would be back for him in due time. But he couldn’t help but pray for more seconds, minutes, hours alone with her.

 _I don’t want to go…_ he thought helplessly.

He wanted to take his Y/N with him. She didn’t belong in a dank place like this all alone for crimes she didn’t do. She belonged with her dwarrow!

Y/N was a pure soul who deserves all the happiness in the world. And Nori wanted to be the one to give it to her. They’d made love to each other twice in the following two weeks before his brother arrived this day. And even though he could feel it in the air around him and deep in his bones, Y/N had still not told him -- out loud -- that she loved him… He wanted to hear it from her own lips, but couldn’t find it in him to ask for such a thing. He wanted her to say it of her own accord.

Nori knew and understood her reluctance in using that word based on her past, but he wasn’t that arse of a king. And he worried he might never get the chance to hear her say it. 

“Well, Nori, I guess this is farewell,” Y/N said resolutely. 

_No… no… not that, please not that._

Despite how cordial her goodbye seemed, it was an immense comfort that she at least  _sounded_ sad that he was leaving. That let him know that she’d miss him and that she truly cared for him. He wondered if she felt anything more for him beyond the intimate bond or if he was just deluding himself.

What if that was all in his head? What if the bond he felt was just one-sided and hers was more in the moment? The physical ache he began to feel in his chest certainly argued otherwise, but as a now bonded dwarrow, he needed his mate. He needed her to reassure him.

He’d told her things he hadn’t told anybody and she entrusted him with the real reason on why she was there, the real story. They’d made love to one another, maybe not physically together, but something definitely passed between them so surely that had to account for  _some_ thing!

"Farewell," huh?

“Not if I have anything to say about it…” he whispered too low for her to hear. 

“Try not to get into trouble? Return what you borrow or else you’ll be stuck here longer than me,” she added in a playfully tone that felt empty and hollow. 

He snickered humorlessly, “Lass, all I am is trouble.”  _And I’d gladly do it all over if it meant being with you again_ , he thought. 

When the sound of boots and voices drew nearer, Nori panicked. His heart rate soared, springing him into action before he lost his chance and candor. Before they could come any closer, Nori leaped to the wall that separated Y/N from him and leaned his face against the bars, wishing he could reach over and touch her. He had decided that he wasn’t giving up on them. Not as long as she told him that he had a chance with her. 

“Y/N, I will return for you.”

“What?” She sounded surprised. 

“I carry you deep in my heart, Y/N. I love you and I cannot leave you here alone. If I return to you, would you come with me?”

“Nori…”

Dori’s voice was getting closer and Nori could make out his form descending down the stairway with a guard in tow. The dread of being apart from Y/N was becoming a physical ache in his chest and he hasn’t even left yet. He’d still never even seen her, but after all they shared he felt like he knew her. She was a part of him now, whether she realized it or not. As the guard and Dori stopped in front of his cell, Y/N remained quiet.

To his satisfaction, Nori was released from his cell in the same series of simple gestures as when he was tossed in. All with a twist of a key. Dori stood to the side with his arms crossed, a look of disapproval plastered on his face that usually came coupled with a firm talking to containing all the same jargon of words Nori grew up hearing time after time. He had zero interest in hearing any of it and had only one thing on his mind. 

“Out with you, dwarf,” the guard spat. “And don’t let me catch you or your sticky fingers around here again!”

As Dori was no doubt making a very stern comment for assurance to the guard, Nori pushed passed them both and went straight for Y/N’s cell and searched for her. As soon as his eyes landed on her form, he felt his heart stop and his whole body hum with life. 

 _Mine. That lass in there is **mine** , _his imprint declared. 

A silhouette was huddled in the corner, right up against the wall in the same place Nori’s cot rested. Mahal, they were sitting side by side all this time. Y/N’s knees were tucked into her chest but he felt something significant stir in him the moment their eyes locked, solidifying his bond for her as something real and tangible and he no longer held any doubt. They really had bonded and imprinted on each other’s souls. Mahal, this sort of thing truly _did_ exist!

Nori was elated upon being filled with purpose. An innate instinct to protect, provide and love this woman consuming him as if it was all he was born to do. Now he could understand what all the married dwarrow were talking about when referring to their Ones. It all made sense. 

Y/N’s head whipped up to look at him while he gripped the bars. She was a small, frail-looking thing and her pigment was dimmed as if she were nearing death -- obvious that she hadn’t seen the sun in ages. She had an almost child-like face; round with youth and innocence. Her long, knee-length thick blue hair pooled beneath her like a waterfall. Her big Y/E/C eyes surveyed his face for the first time and her full pale lips turned up into a warm grin. Her eyes looked too old and wise in counterpart with her young features. But she was his lass, all right. He felt it in his bones and the way she was looking at him, recognizing that watercolor image he's been seeing of her crisp and clear now. She lifted her hands to wave and his braided brows furrowed as they focused at her wee hands. 

He hadn’t put together what the occasional clanging sound was from sitting beside her all those weeks, but he was outraged to learn that Y/N was chained to the wall. She only had enough leeway on the chains for her to venture to and from the walls, but they stopped short a foot from the cell bars which was why he heard the guard toss her food instead of placing it down in front of the doors like they did for him.

“Oh, Y/N, love…” She rose to meet him, her height being the size of a hobbit but her body bore the curvy stature and attributes of an adult woman. “I want to see you again,” he repeated. No, he  _had_ to see her again. And when he did, it was to break her out and take her home with him. 

Her eyebrows rose to her hairline and from behind him he heard the guard scoff and his brother sputter in confusion. He tuned them out with ease. 

“You’ll do no such thing! Now get out, you’re cluttering my dungeon.” The guard barked, making a grab for him.

“Nori!” Y/N called as he was being wrenched away. But he gripped the bar in a vice grip and struggled to remain in her sight. 

“I love you,” she declared sadly, a distant resolution hidden between the words -- as if she were resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be coming back. “For always. And thank you.”

_This isn’t goodbye! This is not goodbye!_

“I’ll come back to ya! Don’t you worry, I promise I will!”

“Nori, don’t be a fool,” Dori hushed, throwing a look of apology to the guard and one of idle caution and curiosity Y/N’s way while he led his brother away by his shoulders. Nori shrugged off their hands and looked Y/N dead in the eye, offering her a silent oath that he would come for her one way or another. He refused to allow his beloved to rot away in a cell chained to the wall like an animal. 

That king was going to pay for this. Nori would make sure of that.

The guard laughed and roughly pushed him along, “Good luck. She’s been in here a looong time. You’d need a king’s ransom to bust this wretched witch out.”

“W-witch? What has she done?” Dori, ever the suspicious one, asked fearfully. 

“Decimated an entire village with a heinous beast of smoke and almost killed the king. Thank goodness he stopped her in time! Ever heard of the Blue Death? Well, that’s her. What happened was...”

“My word!” Dori marveled as the story was explained, throwing a look over his shoulder as her cell faded further and further from view. The only thing Nori heard behind the conversation between the guard and Dori was the hushed sobs coming from the dungeon’s last remaining occupant. 

He fought to weep himself from leaving his love behind, he could have sworn he felt her sorrow seeping all over him in that magical connection they shared, but now was not the time for tears. Now was the time for Nori to be brave for both of them. He would rescue his lass and avenge her, then take her home where she belonged. 

And he knew exactly what he needed to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :X So, my hands slipped with this chapter. I totally didn't intend for there to be any raunch going on yet, but here you have it! Sometimes these chapters just write themselves.


	9. The Road Less Traveled (ThorinxReader) Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and you become unlikely travel companions and after a run-in with orcs, you find yourselves taking shelter at an inn. Which... has to be done under the pretense of being a married couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: NSFW-ish
> 
> Heavily inspired by the bed and breakfast scene in the Leap Year movie. If you’ve never seen that, I recommend it! It’s really cute. And I thought that predicament would be an interesting situation for Thorin to be in.

This was unbelievable. If someone -- hell, even The Makers themselves -- came to your door and told you where you’d be three months from then, you’d have checked both legs to see which one was being pulled and then laughed your way to doom’s day. And as your legs were devoid of any yanking and this situation was so far beyond funny, you had to come to grips with the reality of it. True, nobody from the Valar had come to your door to embark you on this journey; it was a wizard. More specifically, Gandalf the Grey. He had employed you to safely deliver Thorin first to his kin up north and then down to the Shire and you had no idea what it would do to you both. 

You knew of the dwarf named Thorin in your town because he was the finest blacksmith that ever graced your land. He was known to keep to himself and had a reputation of being broody in that there was obviously a storm brewing behind those mysterious blue eyes of his that no one dared test. He didn’t garner much but idle curious attention from men and women because of this, but you always felt drawn to him in a deeper sense somehow. At the very least in a physical sense. There was something about the dwarf that was just so… captivating to you. 

Sometimes you would secretly send him food that waited for him at his workstation, or tidy the place up the day before. It never elicited a huge reaction, but it felt good being nice to him just the same. Thorin just seemed like the type of soul who was deprived of kindness and you wanted to offer it to him to alleviate the dark circles beneath his eyes. 

There were moments when you found yourself watching him work -- always so diligently -- on his anvil creating masterpiece after masterpiece for those who commissioned him. A part of you wanted to get to know him but didn’t know how to approach the guy. So one day, you worked up your courage (and coin purse) and decided to commission him for a sword and discovered firsthand what a closed book he was. And just a tad bit brusque. It didn’t help that you had a knack for saying the wrong thing, or having a momentary lapse in judgement to ensue a sudden bout of clumsiness that provoked his hidden temper and afterward you ceased all niceties. 

If Thorin missed any of the gestures you had done before, he certainly hadn’t missed them enough to say anything about it now that you stopped. But even though that was to be expected since he still didn’t know it was you doing that, you still couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed at the ungrateful, gorgeous, majestic brute.

Then one day out of the blue, Gandalf approached you and implored you to escort Thorin to the Shire. _“Why?”_ you asked him. Thorin was skilled in all weapons he smithed -- you knew this because you watched him practice on his off days -- so there was no reason why he would need an escort. Especially from a mercenary like you. _“I cannot go into details for the whys, but Thorin is not your run-of-the-mill dwarf. He needs an escort and added protection that I am unable to provide at this time,”_ Gandalf replied. And just when you were about to protest and emphasize your point again, Gandalf added rather briskly, _“His sense of direction is appalling. He would likewise head off in the exact opposite direction without a proper guide and time is of the essence.”_

Ah, so that was the why of it. _“But why me?”_ you questioned. _“My dear, Y/N. Your mercenary skills are unparalleled and you know the way of the land better than any other I know. I could think of no one better to lead Thorin to the Shire than yourself. You will be paid handsomely for your trouble, of course, once he is delivered safely. I will meet you there with your reward in hand -- here is the address.”_

And now here you were, three months later. Running for your life. Quite literally. With that very cantankerous, directionally-challenged old dwarf by your side. It didn’t help that you found each other insufferable most days. But you thought this would be an easy task that would serve to make some coin out of it. You should have known better. And the heavy rain that befell you didn’t help in the slightest to make this trying trip any easier.

It was like pulling teeth trying to get Thorin out of his shell during your travels. And every time you felt you were getting close to him, it was like taking one step forward and two backward. It wasn’t all like that, though. You both shared some companionable moments, too. Even some reckless flirting on your behalf -- you couldn’t help yourself; he would just present you with the perfect opening. But instead of loosening up, his feathers got ruffled and you delved back into your usual bickering. In some strange way, that’s just how your friendship with one another developed.

After you both arrived in the north, you were instructed to stay behind while he dealt with his own matters. Appalled and under the assumption Thorin meant for you to wait outside the gates when he was trying to tell you not to come into the meeting room, you made sure your voice was heard. More arguing ensued, and eventually Thorin let slip of his supposed royal heritage, which you didn’t believe for a second, and only served to piss him off more. If he was so royal and important, why would he waste decades of his life working as a blacksmith? It made no sense and he refused to go into details.

Despite Thorin’s outburst at how insolent you were being, his kin had taken a liking to you. Thinking your “fiery spirit” was rather charming and allowed you to wait in one of the taverns for Thorin’s return before you set off for the Shire.

As far as you were concerned, the Shire couldn’t be any further away. And once you both set foot on the road again, luck was not favorable in the slightest and you were forced you to run, fight, and get out of much too many scrapes more often than was comfortable. It went so far that you had to go off the beaten trail just to get out of view. With Thorin and yourself quarreling the whole way.

Thorin was skeptical about the change in trajectory at first, but you have proved yourself to be quite the adept navigator. He didn’t know you were a mercenary and often had to venture off conventional roads frequently, which was why you were well-versed in the ways of the land. It also helped that you had an apt photographic memory and remembered which places were dangerous, which were perfect for laying low, and which had the best food. 

You began to wonder if maybe Gandalf deliberately chose you to lead Thorin just for those exact reasons; as if he anticipated these struggles preemptively and knew your skills would be put to good use. Gods, you wouldn’t put it past him for having that bit of insight.

“We need to find shelter!” Thorin called over the roar of the rain. You had to raise your voices to be heard with how loud it was. 

“There’s a town just up ahead. I know of a small inn there that--”

“No towns!” Thorin dismissed. 

Both of you were huddled close trying to share the large material of Thorin’s cloak that he gave you earlier to shield out rain from your faces. You didn’t know how much running you both were doing, but your movement was slowed immensely by the sudden deluge that effectively turned you both into drowned rats. 

“You’re kidding, right? We’re being chased by orcs in these harsh conditions and you don’t want to take refuge in a town all because of... what exactly?”

Thorin gave you a side look that you knew was supposed to have been a glare but due to the rain, it was more of a grimace. “I need not remind you the reason _why_ we are on the run from orcs. We cannot risk exposing ourselves to the wrong people. We will find a cave.”

Yes, it had been your fault for getting the orcs on your tails in the first place… if that weren’t true you’d be mad at that, but it wasn’t on purpose! He seemed to love talking down to you and pointing out your faults, which was big coming from him considering how you were taller than he was. 

“Oh, so you’d be willing to risk getting caught by orcs in the pouring rain than being seen by complete strangers whom we won’t ever see again?” you laughed dryly.

“We will find a cave,” he repeated as if the decision was final.

No, you so were not going to find a cave to stay the night in like sitting ducks. What if the orcs found you? You’d never be able to get sleep with that worry hanging over your head! Especially being soaking wet and knowing full well you couldn’t make a fire for risk of being spotted and found by them. Plus, you didn’t have a dwarf’s constitution. As a human you were much more susceptible to getting sick and that was the last thing you needed on your To-Do list. 

“Thorin! Stop being ridiculous! You need to learn to trust people--”

“I will not put trust in that of complete strangers for matters you do not understand!” he retorted harshly. 

You growled at his quick mouth, rarely ever letting you finish your thoughts or sentences. It was annoying how quick he was to dismiss any idea you had. As if they weren’t valuable unless they were on par with his own in his “Thorin Knows Best” attitude. He was secretive as to what this whole excursion was really for and you gave up asking about it but also didn’t appreciate the secrecy of it all being flung in your face for use of valid reasons as to why you should or shouldn’t be doing something.

If he would just tell you, it could alleviate a lot of issues and possible miscommunication on your part. But Thorin was a dwarf. And dwarves were as stubborn as they came. 

“I’m not talking about strangers, _I’m talking about trusting_ **_me_** _!_ ” In your exasperation, you tripped and almost stumbled down a muddy slope but Thorin made a quick lunge to grab your arm to pull you back just in time and held you steady.

Too irked to thank him, you shirked out of his grip and pressed on, while he kept up with you step by step. “We’ve been traveling together for months! When will we ever develop a sense of trust in one another? I’m sure Gandalf will understand if we derail a bit from the plan if it involves keeping us safe in an equally safe inn--”

“Gandalf would not have instigated nearly half as much perilous encounters as you have put us through. Your immaculate sense of navigation aside, I have no idea why he thought fit to pair us.”

Leave it to Thorin for offering you both a compliment and an insult in the same sentence. You groaned in frustration and stopped dead before turning to face him. He met your stare undeterred from his own and you felt a shiver. And not from the cold rain. Stepping nose to nose with Thorin, you fought to ignore how attractive he looked with his steely gaze fixed on you. His dark hair wet from the rain, his clothing clinging tightly to his body so you could make out his powerful muscle underneath. He had an uncanny ability to heat you up in such a way that you wanted to slap him, and/or kiss him silly. Sometimes in that order.

“Fine,” you managed roughly once you finally found your voice. “If you’re happy poking around out here in the rain for a cave with our buddy back there, by my guest. Your adept _navigator_ , on the other hand, is going to the inn due west and I’ll be damned before I let some orc find me in a cave instead of in a town they wouldn’t risk scavenging. Come or stay, your choice, but I’m going.”

And with that, you removed yourself from Thorin’s cloak and draped it over his shoulders before turning heel to let that ultimatum sink in. You only made it a couple strides before you felt him yank you back. By the look of defeat he had on his face, you knew you had him. It was simple, really: Thorin lets his navigator leave him behind to rely on his horrid sense of direction, or swallow his pride and trust you enough to lead him into a safe place to lay low for a while.

“No. We will go together,” he said, putting the cloak back on your shoulders and getting under it. He never once met your eye and you smirked triumphantly; this must have taken a lot for him to do and it was evident in his harsh voice. “Quickly, our trails are still fresh. Lead the way.”

Shocked at how quickly he yielded, but pleased he was coming along, you hurried off in the direction of the town under the relative cover of the cloak. It took longer than expected since the rain and wind was in your eyes and it was getting dark out. Both of you were silent the remainder of the time so you could focus on the landscape and sky to help you along. There was no telling if the orc had given up its hunt in the storm so you moved with a sense of urgency.

Finally, the town came into view and you recognized where the inn was located and made a beeline for it. You had never stayed there, but made a mental note of its existence from a journey when you passed through. It was a very small house and was run by a family. From the looks of it, it might only be able to rest six guests tops and looked more like a cottage than an inn. As you approached, you noticed the innkeeper dousing the lamp outside and you doubled your pace, Thorin at your side.

“Wait, Miss! Could you let us in?” you called.

Seeing two figures approaching in the blur of the rain startled her and she made a move to go back inside until your faces came into view and after a quick survey she deemed you nonthreatening.

“Oh, you poor drenched things! Come inside!” The kindly middle-aged woman gestured.

You and Thorin hurried your way into the warmth of the building and you about wept with relief at being out of the rain and far away from the orc’s clutches. It wouldn't be able to track you for much longer with your scents and prints getting lost in the rain and you were certain that it wouldn’t dream of raiding the village for two lowly personals such as yourselves. All you needed was one night and you could hit the road again.

Your host had shed your soaked cloak and Thorin’s furred coat and made a few comments about how horrendous this sudden downpour was to make conversation. The host was a plump woman who looked more big boned than plush with long, messy braided red hair laying at rest over her shoulder and smart blue eyes but a kind, rounded face with laughing lines in all the right places.  

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner and dry off for a spell, dears,” she added. Based on that comment a part of you feared that there weren’t any rooms available. Which would be really unfortunate because you were banking on this being a good place to stay. 

“Thanks! I thought we’d be running forever. If I have to be chased by one more or--” Thorin’s harsh elbow to your side cut that sentence short.

“Yes, _boars_ have never been gentle-tempered animals. If only you lacked the aptitude for persistently provoking the beasts,” he finished pointedly, shushing you with his stare. You got the hint. Any talk of being chased by orcs will likely have her chasing you both back outside. 

Your host’s sharp eyes scrutinously scanned you both as she draped your wet garments over her arm and Thorin addressed her cordially. 

“Thank you for allowing us refuge, do you have any rooms to spare for us?” he asked after wringing his hair out on the floor. 

She had a sort of dubious glint in her eyes as she continued to watch you both warily, but she didn’t have a chance to answer him because you jumped in before he could sabotage your haven further.

Your eyes widened incredulously as you gestured demonstratively to the puddle he made on the floor and you smacked his shoulder, “Thorin! Could you be any more rude? Look at the mess you just made!”

He raised an eyebrow at you and swiped his hand down to the puddle you were making just by standing still.

“I will clean it--”

“--It’s a wonder she’s still keeping us indoors. You’re darn right you will! I am so sorry,” you turned to the woman whose face turned from unsure to warm. “You’ll have to excuse him. He doesn’t have very good manners sometimes -- he is a dwarf after all -- but that aside I hope you wouldn’t find us burdensome if we request to stay the night? Do you happen to have any vacancy?”

You pointedly ignored Thorin’s glare at that “he is a dwarf after all” comment, though he did huff defiantly in response. 

“Of course you both can stay,” she chuckled. “As your luck would have it, I happen to have the one room left--” As if the woman had a completely new demeanor and had known you for years, her hospitality had shot right up and she was all smiles. She turned to hang your wet clothes on a hook to dry and both yours and Thorin’s mouths opened to correct this “one room” situation but quickly snapped your mouths shut when she continued.

“Perfect for married couples! You both sure had me worried for a moment.”

“Oh? And, uh, why’s that?” you cleared your throat nervously and managed a cheerful smile to mask it.

She looked a bit bashful at this.  

“You’ll have to pardon me for judging you so quickly. At first glance I wasn’t sure and planned to just feed you supper and send you on your way, but when I saw your rings and how you both acted towards each other, I thought, ‘Why, Beth, if they don’t fuss like you and your Bertie! They must be married!’” she laughed. “And before you ask, no I’m not prejudice to interracial couples, so don’t you worry about that!”

Thorin shifted uncomfortably and you barked out a laugh at the obscurity of her very wrong conclusion, but quickly rebounded before she caught on to her mistake. “Yes, we get that a lot.”

Thorin had on many rings which weren’t anything special as far as you were concerned, but he did have one on his ring finger. And yours? You saw it in a marketplace and thought it was really pretty. Never did you think it would be such a fortuitous buy. 

“Do you only accept lodging for married couples?” Thorin questioned carefully. He clearly had no intent on pretending to be your husband unless he absolutely had to. Even now you could see him weighing the options: would he rather throw away his pride -- again -- and have the safety of a warm bed and food at the cost of pretending to be your hubby, or would he curse it all and storm back outdoors after being fed a warm meal?

Being in an unfamiliar town had given him pause, you knew, but  it was quite obvious which option he’d wind up choosing. And you knew he would play his cards well whatever the case may be. Maybe a bath and hot meal would do you both good. 

Beth’s kind eyes turned as stern as a mother’s and you wanted to kick Thorin for possibly jeopardizing you both. 

“If I only had the one room? Absolutely! There’s nothing more dishonorable than an unmarried man and woman sharing a bed. It’s just simply unseemly and improper! I’m not running a brothel here, so if there were any unwed ladies and gents looking to share a room under  _my_ roof, I’d kick them out without batting an eye, downpour or no.”

A crack of thunder cued as if to remind you that it was either pretend to be a civil married couple or have fun sleeping out in _that_. You both exchanged looks and Thorin’s lingered a little longer.

He smirked, “Aye. It is reassuring to know that there are still _some_ maidens who share such honorable values. Thank you for taking us in,” he smiled charmingly.

Beth blushed a little and then tapped the side of her face underneath her gray eyes and winked, “Oh, psh! You aren’t nearly the most unusual couple that came to my lodgings. I’ve always had an eye for this sort of thing. Right is right, I always say! So how long have you two been married?”

“Three months,” you both answered in unison, which surprised you both enough that you exchanged looks of shared relief. It would have been terrible if you spat out different answers like--

“How wonderful! Welcome to Beth and Bertie’s then, uh, Mr. and Mrs…?” she inquired sweetly. 

“Fundinson,” Thorin answered quickly while your mouth opened to blurt your own last name -- saving you just in time. You looked him over curiously, wondering if that was his true family name. He was always so secretive about it and Gandalf had refused to tell you “for your own safety.” It was one thing you never pursued to press because you knew he'd never tell you. 

Beth smiled wide, repeating the name back warmly and you felt bad for lying to her. She seemed like such a kind lady but when your lives (and the comfort of a soft bed and a hot meal) were at stake, you had to do what you had to do. To help make the lie appear convincing, you draped an arm over Thorin’s shoulders, feeling him turn to solid stone under your touch though he didn’t move away and you laid your head on top of his. 

“Those three months felt so much longer though, didn’t they?”

“They certainly have,” Thorin’s baritone voice bit out, bringing up a rough hand to “lovingly” pinch your cheek harder than necessary before he backed away. 

You kept in the squeal a pain inside and gave him an equally rough, affectionate clop on the shoulder in response and got to work at removing your boots near the door. Both of you had left giant puddles behind from standing in the foyer you looked up at Beth sheepishly but she waved your worry away. 

“Make yourselves at home! Since you’re still practically newlyweds, I’ll give you a deal for your stay. Only ten silver per night and I’ll throw in a free breakfast for you both.”

“Really? That’s so kind of you!” you replied as you removed your socks. Your eyes shot to Thorin, who was working on getting his own boots off and an idea bloomed. 

“Well, go on and pay Miss Beth for our stay, _honey bum_.” You bit back a snicker, knowing Thorin would just _love_ that pet name. He was positively prickling in silence -- you could see it in his eyes -- even though on the exterior he was very composed. You glanced up at him innocently through your eyelashes and bit your lip triumphantly. It was an unsaid rule that husbands always paid for everything. And you were going to milk this out as long as you could.

While your host turned to smile at Thorin expectantly, he managed a small sigh and a forced polite smile in return as he dug into his pocket. 

He frowned and patted around before checking other pockets. 

“I apologize, it seems I must have lost my coin pouch somewhere in the storm,” his lips pursed into a thin line as his gaze leapt to the window as he tried to recall where it must have fallen.

You paled, feeling around your own pouch before remembering that you had yet to even be paid and your measly little coin that you did have on hand wasn’t nearly enough to stay at an inn, let alone buy a sufficient meal. You both tried to avoid towns if you could, per Gandalf’s instructions, but the sudden chase with the orcs enforced a bend of the rules that you didn’t quite anticipate. You didn’t want to spend your coin unless it was an emergency, but now it seemed all for naught since you couldn’t afford it anyway.

Thorin looked to you with a raised eyebrow and you could tell he was getting ready to ask if you had any currency but then he sighed and softened the hard look on his face when he saw your horrified expression.

“Oh my, that’s most unfortun--”

“We’ll work for our stay!” your desperate voice interrupted Beth as you jumped to your feet. There was no way you were spending the night outside. Be that in a barn or anywhere involving outdoors, for that matter. Not when you finally managed to escape the orcs. Not when you had just taken your soggy boots off! “I’m great with housework and we can assist you with any chores around the house to earn our keep. I’ll even volunteer to cook dinner.”

Beth looked flustered and began to protest that it wasn’t necessary until Thorin stepped in beside you, “Beth, it is the least we can do to thank you for your hospitality. Allow my wife and I to properly show our gratitude. Just let us know what would be sufficient as payment and we will not disappoint, you have my word.”

The look on Beth’s face gave away her defeat, but she still put up a front while she reluctantly allowed your services in exchange for your stay. 

“You two certainly drive a hard bargain, but I will accept your help and wouldn’t dare say no to a meal! I already have supper cooking on the stove, so go ahead and wash up -- the bathroom is up the stairs, first door to the left and your room is on the opposite side. My Bertie should be home any time now to join us and we can discuss what would be acceptable in terms of payment then. Now go and get yourselves cleaned and dry!” she shooed.

You uttered an excited, quick thank you and dashed upstairs leaving Thorin behind to tend to the puddles. You caught a glimpse of the tub and thanked the Valar that it was all set up and ready for a bath with actual steam billowing over the water. You were already melting in bliss at the thought of being able to sink in hot water again after being months without a proper wash. There were some bath salts perched on the counter top by the sink that you spotted, so you added them into the water along with some bubbles to pamper yourself.

The aroma was pleasant and intoxicating in its cleanliness. Not too masculine or too feminine, but just the right balance that you wouldn’t mind marinating into your skin. Eau de Lake was so not for you anymore. 

You don’t know how long you spent in there enjoying the smells of the herbs and soaps and soaking in the humidity encased in the bathroom, but you finally left to spend some time arranging the rest of your things in the bedroom. Looking at the bed and then the room, you knew the sleeping arrangement was going to be a problem. For one thing, the mattress was just big enough to allow two people, if they happened to be nestled all cozy side by side. There was literally nowhere else to sleep in the room. The only things it had in it was the bed, a dresser, a closet, and a window. It was obviously only intended primarily for sleeping in, not luxuriating, but you were okay with that. Anything beat camping in the outdoors.

 _Well, this is going to be fun…_ you muttered to yourself, trying to figure out a fair way to flip for the bed or just suck it up and share. You had a hunch that Thorin would be against the latter. Ah, well. You’d worry about that later.

There were some towels folded nicely on the edge of the bed, so you grabbed one to mop up the mess in the foyer with Thorin, only to see that the deed was already completed when you got there. Beth’s humming in the kitchen could be heard while she prepared dinner and it sounded like she was talking to someone, _Probably Thorin_ , you thought and decided to finally get out of your wet clothes and soak while the water was hot. Those bath salts should be melted by now.

After shedding your wet clothes in your room, you found some slightly oversized clothes to change into from the dresser -- but at least they were dry! You folded and tucked them under your arm and wrapped the remaining towel around yourself and hoped you didn’t run into anyone in the hall.

You were eager to wash all the rain and gunk off of your skin, and just as you burst through the door and dropped your towel, you caught sight of Thorin -- bare as a babe -- with his leg paused mid-swing over the edge of the tub to climb on in with his goods out in full display. You didn’t mean to stare but you couldn’t help it; luckily it only happened over the span of a few seconds. Instead of excusing yourself and making a hasty exit like a respectable, virtuous maid would do, your eyes shamelessly roamed over your traveling companion’s delicious body as he stood before you and relished every detail. 

Valar have mercy… he had a toned, broad chest littered with scars and scrapes with some dwarven rune tattoos across his right breast.

His pectorals had a thick fuzz of hair in a T shape splattered across that tapered down his sculpted stomach before sprouting into a rather well-kept dark bush encasing his massive, semi-flaccid cock and the heavy sac hanging beneath it. You begged your eyes not to linger there, so they leapt up to Thorin’s wide eyes instead. Though you were secretly glad for having such a photographic memory. There’s no way you’d ever forget _that_ gorgeous sight.

Thorin was frozen in shock for a moment staring right back at you when you realized that you were just as naked as he was. In a rather delayed scramble, you swiftly wrapped the towel around you again in a sudden bout of embarrassment.

That seemed to snap him out of his own daze and Thorin covered himself with both hands and stepped back from the tub, using it to shield himself further since it came up to his hips. He turned his face to the side to hide his blush.

“Blessed _Mahal_ , woman. Have you heard of knocking?” his deep voice seemed even deeper and a hum fluttered through your body.

Bereaved of words or the capacity to process thought, the only thing your brain could put together in response was, “Uh…”

 _I thought you were downstairs. I didn’t think anyone was in here. I’m sorry, you’re right! I should have knocked._ All of those things could have been perfectly acceptable things you could have said. But nope. Your brilliant mind came up with “uh”.

Thorin leaned into the weight of one hand that gripped on the edge of the tub and sighed through his nose.

“If you are quite done ogling, I would like to partake in a bath now -- _privately_.” Thorin tacked on. As if that wasn’t already obvious. With your face as red as a strawberry, you quickly turned around. Under normal circumstances, you’d have made a quirky response back at him, but you were still far too flustered to speak.

Thorin’s body, hell, Thorin in general, was absolutely breathtaking. And he was hung like a _god_.

Finally, your mouth seemed capable of speech, “I’m sorry, I thought you were downstairs. I’ll, uh, go wait in the bedroom.”

Your heart was pounding when you shut yourself back into the bedroom clutching onto the towel tightly.

It became very evident now that your attraction to him was unmistakable. You could deny it however you saw fit to yourself, him, and other people, but there was no better proof than your body’s natural response to him. And it was filled to the brim with sexual heat. Your core bloomed and dripped at the very male sight of him permanently burned into your memory, wanting what his birth had so generously gifted him.

Shit.

You lowered down to the bed. With your face in your hands, you had no clue how you were going to survive the night being in such close quarters with him. Especially if he had this much of an effect over you. As you waited for Thorin to finish, your thighs rubbed together, trying to quench the building ache.

 

* * *

 

 _I saw naked Thorin. Thorin was_ **_naked_** _. And I saw_ **_everything_** _._  

Even though you were seated at the table, washed, dried and clean, your mind certainly wasn’t. You couldn’t seem to focus on anything else, much less the conversation. You could only dimly recall being properly introduced to Beth, meeting her husband, Bertie, and the other occupant at the inn, Aaryn, but you were on auto-pilot for the rest of the evening retaining very little else. You were too focused on how surprising it was that you were able to even face Thorin after the whole tub debacle. He sure was taking it a lot better than you were. The most he did since you walked in on him was when he returned to the room freshly washed. He just… knocked, then walked in to blankly inform you that you could now bathe. Then he turned around and left, closing the door behind him. Now it was like it never happened. And still all you could see was his strong arms and powerful chest. Your eyes leading down his happy trail.

“Y/N?”

It was unfathomable how he could he so calm about this and sit there like nothing happened. How? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were supposed to be married. Seeing your significant other naked is completely normal. Sure. You know, in the event that you were _actually married_. But you weren’t! You were just traveling companions and you… oh, gods… you saw Thorin naked. And now he’s sitting right next to you and all you can see is his perfect, sculpted body and dark wet hair and braids clinging to his handsome, manly face looking up at you from dark lashes.

“Y/N.”

And he saw _you_ naked! Along with being embarrassed for the rest of your natural life, you wondered what he thought of your body. Would he be constantly thinking about it? Did he find you repulsive? It’s not like you barged in there knowingly. Why didn’t he say anything about it? Maybe he thought it wasn’t that big of a deal and therefore nothing worth talking about. Yeah, that’s it. Perhaps he was right. This was already an awkward enough situation and now with nudity thrown in, it seemed like there weren’t any more surprises awaiting you--

“Huh?”

Beth laughed when Thorin jostled your shoulder lightly to get your attention, causing your head to whip around in confusion, only to duck down in embarrassment as all eyes at the table were focused on you. 

“You all right, dear?” Beth laughed. 

Not knowing why, you looked over at Thorin who quirked a concerned eyebrow your way and you decided to pay homage to the meal on your plate with revived fervor like it was the best damn thing in existence so you could avoid looking at him; finding that the food wasn’t that bad, actually. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I guess I’m just a bit tired from the day’s travels. We’ve been on the road for some time now-- ow!”

You winced and kicked Thorin back, understanding he was telling you not to give out too many details but not appreciating his method of “subtlety.”

“ _You’re_ the one who planned out this outdoors honeymoon excursion,” you huffed at him to cover your tracks. Man, this whole lying thing was irksome.

“No worries at all!” Bertie smiled so that his one dimple showed. “As I was discussing with your husband, we’ve agreed that two days of help and a home cooked meal would be plenty payment for your stay. It’s a mighty shame about your coin. Reminds me of the day I proposed,” he snickered and cast a quick look to Beth. “We had ourselves a grand meal at a quaint town a few days travel north from here and I forgot to bring my coin pouch along -- which had the ring inside -- and we had to spend a week scrubbing down the floors of the dining hall to compensate for all that food we ate.”

Beth’s laughter bellowed out in mighty heaps as she recalled the memory. You internally cringed. That sounded like a horrible turn of events, but it obviously went over well at some point considering how they went through with the marriage.

“Do you remember?” he asked her. Beth deadpanned, which earned a round of laughter from the table. 

You nibbled on a piece of bread as you tried not to notice how Thorin’s knee was pressed into yours since the kick. You assumed he wasn’t aware, so you did your best to stay as still as you could to keep the contact. You’ve been aching to touch him since… nope, not going there.

Beth gestured to her husband as she addressed you all, “This is coming from the man who can’t even remember to empty the rubbish bin every morning. Of course, I remember! This happened thirty or so years ago. It doesn’t sound like a funny story, but it has a charming end…” she left the sentence unfinished for anticipation while she casually took a drink of wine.

“Don’t leave us hanging! What happened?” Aaryn asked. 

Beth had a certain glint in her eye. “Well, after the week was over and our payment was fulfilled, this _rascal_ over here--” she affectionately punched Bertie in the shoulder -- “realized that his coin pouch was on the horse the whole time even though he swore he checked there already.”

Bertie gave a defenseless chuckle and held up his hand, “Honest to goodness, it wasn’t there when I checked the first time! But before it could become misplaced again, I dropped down on my knee right then and there and asked for her hand. Probably not the best time, but... I had some charm back then, so I was able to convince her.” He finished with a sheepish shrug.

“This is who I married,” Beth sighed and shook her head. But then she smiled warmly, “But I wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

“Aww, you both are adorable,” you drawled at the cuteness. Seeing the love and compassion in their eyes had a way of tugging on your heartstrings and you wondered if you would ever get the chance to experience that sort of thing. You’d love the opportunity to share that with someone.   

Being so caught up in the story and added comments from Aaryn on how happy his wife made him when she was alive, you missed Thorin’s lingering gaze as he looked at you fondly. 

Then there was a sudden shift of focus on the conversation as Beth’s blue eyes targeted you.

“I have to know. Now, Bertie, don’t you look at me like that, you know I was going to ask!” Beth giggled as he leaned over to peck her on the cheek and gave her the table. 

You and Thorin braced yourselves. 

“How did he propose?”

You were confused for a moment and then remembered your not-husband and the situation you put yourselves in and the lies you had to uphold. You weren’t prepared. For any of this, really: this trip, the pretend marriage, the bath, this tale. None of it.

Thorin stiffened and looked to you awaiting your answer.

While he stayed silent, you understood that he intended for you to whip out a story out of thin air. Well, two can play at this game.

“Go on. You _love_ telling this story,” you nudged Thorin. 

“No, you may tell it this time.”

“I insist, my love,” you pressed. 

“For goodness sake, Thorin, tell us!” Beth chided eagerly. 

The sly side-eyed look that he threw your way went unnoticed by everyone except for you and it read “You will pay for this!” But anticipating what Thorin’s story would be made it all worth it. You smiled and propped your head up on your hands and everyone waited patiently for Thorin to collect himself. He threw you another look and you winked in response, this was going to be great. Just in case it turned south, you kept your ears open in case you had to jump in to his defense or add anything.

“Where to begin…” he mused. 

Thorin decided to start from how you first met and vaguely breezed over the town you both resided in so as not to give away too many details about who you both were or the real purpose of your trip. Thorin used just enough truth to make it believable, but you could detect all the heavy embellishments he added to fluff the farce. He explained how you commissioned him for a sword -- the one propped in your room that you carried upon you for this journey -- and how at first you struck him as the most mentally exhausting, aggravating, pain in the backside that he’s ever met. You fought back a few choice words you wanted to spit at him as a reminder that he wasn’t exactly the most pleasant person to be around either. 

“But somehow despite it all…” he continued wistfully. “I became bewitched. My dreams were haunted by her face, in my waking moments I yearned to catch a passing glance just to see me through until I could stand it no longer. From her absence, my heart grew rather beguiled.”

You blushed and your heart quickened, wondering how much of this was true or if he was just really gifted at story-telling. It was hard to tell because his grouchy behavior suggested otherwise. He was making quite the performance; Thorin’s voice had demanded the full attention of the table and his deep baritone was perfect for speaking; it sounded like he was reading from a book. You reasoned with yourself that if Thorin felt any affection for you at all, he would have told you or showed signs of it, but even you were being moved by his words. 

“I smithed a courting gift, a metal rose, and I sought her out to propose my intent, which eventually led to my asking for her hand.”

“A metal rose?” Aaryn bemused curiously, twirling his long, gray handlebar mustache. 

Thorin nodded, “Aye. To symbolize that, unlike a real flower whose beauty and scent would eventually wither into nothing, my gift to her -- my heart -- would be ever eternal. Any suitor could offer their intended a mere flower; but why offer such a short-lived token of affection to one you fancy so?”

An unexpected, thoughtful heaviness settled into the room when he finished. Thorin looked around the table at their reverent faces and relaxed, indulging in the ale in his goblet after a job well done. You were half-inclined to applaud him. That was way better than anything you could have cooked up. 

“Oh my, that’s... beautiful,” Beth sniffed, quickly dabbing at her eyes to hide the fact she was crying. 

Your chest warmed and Thorin had once again bereft you of words. You had no idea he was capable of being so… thoughtful. So romantic. You watched him in silent awe while he drank and you happened to catch a peculiar look cross his face while he stared sightlessly at the center of the table. 

“And then you kissed!” Beth rebounded with giddy delight, practically jumping out of her chair. The statement was more inquiring than not. Thorin wrinkled his nose in amusement and gave a small smile and nod to indulge her.

“Aye.”

“I knew it! Oh, how romantic!” she said with a sigh. 

Aaryn raised his glass to Thorin. His gray eyes, almost as gray as his pepper-colored hair, gave a satisfactory wink, “That, my friends, is how you woo a lady. Good show, lad! You’ve done us males proud.”

Thorin gave a soft chuckle but lifted his goblet in thanks. 

“Indeed!” Bertie concurred proudly, raising his own cup to meet the two of theirs at the middle of the table in a masculine tap before they gulped down their beverages. 

“So, what was the kiss like?” Beth asked you, her blue eyes twinkling like sapphires.

“Pardon?” you choked in surprise. 

“Come on, we’re all friends here! What was the kiss like? Was it-was it passionate and deep? Sweet and gentle? Or a take-no-prisoners-fireworks type of kiss?” 

Bertie chuckled goodnaturedly, unaffected by his wife’s insatiable thirst for your nonexistent love escapades. “She loves askin’ newly wed folks their love stories. Always a sap, my Beth.” Bertie showered his wife with a loving expression while she focused intently on you. Aaryn awkwardly cleared his throat but listened on with a blush on his face. He wasn’t as open for details as your lady host and didn’t appear to be as interested as she was.

The older gentleman tried, and failed, to change topics much to your disappointment. And with a sigh waited for you to divulge some details.

You risked a look Thorin’s way for help, but he was busy smirking into his goblet. Drinking slowly. So as not to comment. That little devil. It was obvious that it was your turn. But you couldn’t top what Thorin made up! You didn’t have his deep, commanding voice, or sultry, romantic -- and very surprising -- way with words. 

“Well?” Thorin pried deeply in hopes to spur you on. 

“It was…” you blushed, coming up with nothing especially when you felt his eyes on you. Thorin was very interested to know what you were going to say. Silently challenging you to one-up his own story. 

Unable to escape the pressure of being under the spotlight, you imagined what kissing Thorin might be like and even though your whole body heated up all over again at the visuals from earlier, you decided to go with that thought, “It was like nothing I could have ever imagined.” A safe and true statement. You were actually quite proud of yourself for whipping that little diddy up, but Beth was not placated.

“Go on then! Don’t be shy, details, details!”

“Beth… please, don’t make me say this,” you pleaded quietly as you wished your head could tunnel into your body like a turtle. The blasted thing stopped at your shoulders, rendering escape impossible.

“Go on, _my jewel_. You love telling that story,“ Thorin retorted smugly. 

You pointed your finger at him in warning.

“Thorin, so help me--”

“Let’s leave ‘em alone now before they start yipping. You’ve had your fun,” Bertie interjected to his wife who huffed but reluctantly agreed; satisfied enough from Thorin’s story. “Thorin, why don’t you join Aaryn and myself in the sitting room for an evening smoke?”

Thorin accepted the invitation and followed the men out. He seemed more relax after getting a good meal and some ale in him. You smirked, pleased you had someone to come to your rescue so you didn't embarrass yourself any further for the night and watched him go.

When the men excused themselves and made way into the sitting room, and as soon as the plates were emptied, you volunteered to help Beth in the kitchen with washing and drying to leave the guys to their “men time”, just so you could get away from Thorin. Or rather, the thoughts about Thorin. The sight of his nakedness was still so vivid in your mind’s eye and coupled with his potential romantic side had your heart pitter-pattering like a butterfly. You'd never heard him speak of such things. Frankly, he didn't strike you capable, but as this inconvenient derailing of your journey was proving to turn out, Thorin was full of surprises. 

Beth was an exuberant woman. She admitted that it's been a while since she had a lady friend to talk with about "lady things", and apologized if her intense energy bombarded you at all. You could relate. If you weren't out traveling alone, you had spent the better part of your days traveling with a male dwarf and you didn't realize that you were missing out on much needed lady time. 

It didn't either of you long to thoroughly enjoy each other's company.  

“You must tell me, dearie!” Beth suddenly preened, pulling you aside and flinging her damp dishcloth over her shoulder with a heavy flop. “Between us girls. What’s it like being married to a dwarven man?”

Your mouth opened just as you caught sight of Thorin rounding a corner and stopping short when he saw that you both were about to engage in what looked to be a private conversation, and he stepped backward, still remaining in your view. "Dwarven man" must have caught his attention. 

Your eyes met Thorin’s as a smile, seemingly innocent to Beth but looking pure evil to him, grew on your lips. “Well, he’s rather rough around the edges. Stubborn as a mule, hot-tempered, headstrong--”

Beth disinterestedly waved all those things aside.

“Yes, yes, all that but how is he in the _bedroom_? Is dwarven bedsport all that they say it is?” she inquired excitedly as if she were a giggling teenager and not a respectable inn owner who would have kicked you both to the curb at the thought of sharing a bed premaritably. 

Ah, yes. You’d heard the rumors, too. Dwarven men were supposed to be very well endowed -- which you had the pleasure to prove as fact -- with high endurance levels. Though they rarely, if ever, mated with someone outside their kind, stories had circulated from those who had the honor of being the one who won their dwarrow’s affections.

You swallowed back a bark of laughter as Thorin’s eyes widened and gazed at you from under his thick eyebrows. “No, don’t,” that look read. Oh, the possibilities. If Thorin had been an exceptional traveling companion, you would have been inclined to be more kind. But given his arrogant, rough, belittling demeanor, you decided his giant ego could use some much needed deflating.

“Oh, that? Well,” you rubbed your hand across the back of your neck, trying to summon up the expression of being timid. “I really shouldn’t…” you baited, keeping your eyes locked on Thorin’s. He watched you warily, slowly shaking his head in warning. He knew that tone of yours and didn’t trust it the same way most would.  

“Oh, you simply _must_ tell me! Your Thorin is such a looker, I’ve never seen a more handsome dwarf, and I’m just dying to know if there’s any truth to what some of the ladies have said!” she sighed dreamily.

Looking Thorin dead in the eye over Beth’s shoulder, “Between you and me, that part is always… all right.”

Beth frowned in utter disappointment as if you had refused to tell her at all and if Thorin’s  glare was a dagger, you’d be on the floor dead the moment the last syllable left your lips. 

“Just ‘all right?’” Then with renewed enthusiasm, “Surely he can’t be that bad or you wouldn’t have stayed married to him! Go on, you’re among a friend. What's lacking?”

“Well, he’s got quite the hammer, if you know what I mean” -- that much was true -- “but Thorin is not the most attentive lover, or responsive. Most times, he seems keen on seeking his own satisfaction while I’m left lying there like an oven needing preheating and by the time I’m ready to go, he’s spent. It’s rather disappointing.”

Beth took your hands in hers and squeezed as she gave you a look of motherly compassion and you had to bite your lip to stop from chuckling at this “very serious” conversation while Thorin was only mere feet away fuming like a furnace. The effort of not bursting into a fit of giggles resulted in your eyes tearing up, which came off as a huge concern to Beth that this was a sensitive topic for you and got you upset.

“Oh, you poor thing... Men certainly are clueless in all races, in seems.” 

You looked back to where Thorin was only to see that he had disappeared from sight and you felt that maybe you pushed this too far. He always was a spiteful little thing and you thought maybe you were too harsh on putting his masculinity under the spotlight in such an unfavorable manner to someone you barely knew when you had no idea of his sexual prowess. But he was just fun to tease.

Beth continued, “Have you spoken to him about this? About your concerns?” 

You refocused on her, “What? No.”

“Thorin loves you, dearie. Anyone with eyes can see that, you lucky girl! They say that dwarrows only ever love once, so Thorin probably has never had a lover before and therefore lacks the experience of proper bedsport. Talk to him. I know he’ll listen and consider what you have to say. There was a reason you fell in love with each other in the first place, right? And since you’re still freshly married, he's still learning. Don’t be afraid to guide him or take the reins every once in a while, either. That’s part of your job as his wife,” Beth finished with a wink.

Oh, this was so not the conversation you thought you’d be having. Like, ever. It was appalling how someone could be such a bad judge of character. You know you had... certain feelings for Thorin, in some odd way, but Thorin all but tolerated your company. Beth seemed happy to watch the world through her romantic rose colored spectacles. But you smiled and nodded just to appease her, but if anything to get out of the hole you were digging yourself in case Thorin was still eavesdropping.

After some idle chatter about much more comfortable topics, you said goodnight and started to head back to the bedroom. You noticed Thorin wasn’t anywhere to be found, so going by the dull roar of male voices emanating from the sitting room, he probably went back there after…

You stopped at the base of the stairs and frowned in thought as it dawned on you that maybe you hurt him somehow. You were just having a bit of fun, was that really something for Thorin to get upset about? Then again, if he had been saying some outrageous claims about your wiles so unfavorably to a bunch of men, you’d have been irked, too. 

You shook your head and ascended the steps. 

  
This was hardly the first time you poked fun at him. Besides, none of it was likely true, anyway. He had to know how attractive he was, and he knows himself better than anybody to be upset over something so petty. He never bothered to listen to you before, so why would he start now? _That may be_ , a corner of your mind whispered, _but speech is silver and silence is golden. And what’s said is said._

 

* * *

“What in Mahal’s name was that about!?” Thorin demanded, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him after you entered through it. You jumped and whirled around, startled to see him waiting up here for you. 

Not caring for his tone, you retorted, “Whatever do you mean, honey dearest?” You knew exactly what it was about but was hoping you could charm your way out of it. 

Thorin’s steely blue stare pierced right through you in his anger. His words were as sharp as his blade, “Do not mock me, you infuriating woman! You know full well on what I speak of! Spouting such nonsense to a stranger on personal matters you know nothing about!”

 _Oh, don’t I, Mr. Hung Like A Pony?_  you wanted to snip back but decided that running your mouth had already gotten you into enough trouble. Thorin paced in front of you as if he were trying to cool down, but he only became more worked up. Meanwhile you were trying to run through different ways to diffuse the tension building. But you had a hunch where this conversation would be going.  

“You are so tactless! Were you raised in the woods, per chance?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Oh, sorry, we can’t all be born of jewels and gold with silver spoons in our mouths like _some_ people. Gods, you know, for someone who’s descended from ‘royalty’, you sure lack the amount of manners that one of your supposed stature should have when it comes to speaking to ladies.” 

“I would speak upon a lady with utmost respect, however, I see no lady here,” he spat. 

“Hold your tongue, my dear husband, or I’ll hold it for you,” you smiled sweetly through gritted teeth, though your voice leaked venom.  

Thorin bristled and looked taken aback for a moment before sneering and turning his reddened face away with a “hmpf”, “Your insistent wagging tongue is precisely our issue. You are absurd.” 

“And you’re a killjoy.”

“A killjoy?” Thorin repeated incredulously with his booming voice. He shot a look to the closed door and then lowered his voice. “We should have stayed outdoors and found a cave! Do you think I find this predicament fun?”

You crossed your arms and mumbled, “I’m surprised you even know the meaning of the word.”

“You, on the other hand, have far too much of it. Have you no honor at all? No dignity? To tell that woman such lies about my own person is splitting hairs, even for you.”

You sneered. “Well, we’re considered a ‘happily married couple’, you could always put those lies to the test!” you jested bitterly. 

He threw his hands up in the air, completely exasperated. “You are such an incorrigible...! This is exactly what our problem is. No wonder you have yet to marry! What man in their right mind would bind themselves to the likes of you?”

Ouch. You recoiled a bit at that, and your bravado dropped substantially. Suddenly this wasn’t so fun anymore and you regretted ever antagonizing him in the first place. Even though you both had a tendency to push each other’s buttons. Thorin seemed to realize how harsh that must have sounded and his anger steamed out of him in a throaty exhale.  

“That was out of line--”

  
“No,” you interjected, curling further in on yourself in shame. If anyone was crossing any lines, it was you. Hell, you practically leaped over them. “No, you’re right. It was wrong of me to say all those things about you in front of Beth. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea at the time, I guess I wanted a way to get back to you for belittling me all the time. So, I’m sorry for emasculating you in such a way when it’s none of my business.”

You backed up when he took a step towards you, not wanting him to touch you, much less look at you. 

“For the record, even though we argue and fight and say some tasteless things to each other, I don’t think of you as some horrible, rude, unfeeling monster. I know you have a passionate side and a good, noble heart. You’re considerate and sweet when I’m not constantly pestering you or making inappropriate remarks,” you admitted quietly. 

You thought about how before the orc chase it had started to pour and Thorin was kind enough to give you his hooded cloak since it was thicker than yours. You didn’t even ask him for it. As soon as the rain gushed down, he whipped it off and draped it over your shoulders as he guided you both to seek shelter.  

He hunted for you both, tended to your injuries, always scouted ahead of you so as to shield you from harm… Thorin actually treated you very well. The cause of the bickering had nothing to do with his being a dwarf, or his difficult personality and obviously troubled past. The cause of the bickering and all of your hardship was because of you. 

“I don’t know why I’m like this. But despite what I say, I always thought you a very capable, wickedly handsome dwarf. And I took your company and kindness for granted.”

Thorin was stunned to silence and just a tad embarrassed on your confession based on the pink on his cheeks that only made his dark beard more pronounced on his face. 

“Y/N--”

You held up your hand, “No, we’re good here. I’m… uh--" you inclined your chin towards the bed --"I’m going to go wash up and then we can decide about the whole sleeping arrangement.”

And you left him there to clear your head, gently closing the door behind you. A couple splashes to the face and deep breaths later from the sink, you sobered up enough from the altercation to be able to face him again.

Looking into the mirror, you saw the water running down your face like the reflection was the distortion of yourself. You frowned and wished you saw someone you were proud of instead of this imperfect weirdo as you patted yourself dry. Normally, you didn't care what anyone thought about you, but hearing Thorin's words hurt more than all the nastier things others have ever said to your face or otherwise behind your back. Rethinking the same thought from earlier in the evening, you really didn’t have any clue how you were going to survive the night. Thorin had proved time and time again that he had a special effect over you that no one else had. 

Sometimes it was pleasant. Sometimes it was even a little fun. But now you just wanted it to relinquish and leave you be. 

* * *

“That was some story at dinner. Where'd that come from?” you ventured blindly. Anything to kill the awkwardness. And you didn’t want to outright ask Thorin if any of what he said was true, despite how curious you were. Especially given how this evening was going. But you were tired of laying there in the insect-chirping white noise. You sort of wished the rain was still pouring, just to get some added noise.  

After you returned from the bathroom, you and Thorin had words on how to go about who slept where. Like the nobleman he was, he offered the bed to you and decided he would sleep downstairs. But you argued that it would rouse suspicions and potentially blow your cover; tenderly bringing up the still-sore subject of the conversation you had with Beth. You didn’t want her prying into your business, especially if you were trying to make it right between you both. Thinking a fight had occurred between you was not something you wanted anyone to know. 

Thorin then suggested the floor, but eventually you both decided to just be adults and share the bed. There was no point in letting it go to waste considering how you didn’t know when you’d get the next chance. 

And so you both were awkwardly laying on your backs, shoulder to shoulder, in uncomfortable silence. 

“This is a bad idea,” Thorin responded, avoiding your question. 

You shrugged.

“Look at it this way, we’ve seen each other naked. Sleeping in the same bed should be a piece of cake.” Instantly hating yourself for bringing that up, you quickly added, “I-I mean… ugh, I’m sorry. Forget I said that.” 

While you cursed to yourself, you felt more than heard the heaving sigh Thorin’s body released and he clasped his hands together across his stomach, “If only it were that simple.”

You gave a wince, thinking the sight of you was the thing he wanted to forget. 

He didn’t seem to notice and continued, “Even though you were the one who failed to announce yourself, I feel as though I must apologize to you for… seeing me like that.”

You turned your face towards him in surprise, “Why?”

“I should have been quicker to cover myself, and yet there I stood. Revealing myself to you so shamelessly. Forgive me.”

No complaining there! He said it as if he were ashamed of himself. Which you thought was completely outrageous.  

“Please, like you actually wanted me to see you,” you joked in hopes to make him feel better. Thorin remained silent but then made an indiscernible sound. You weren’t sure what to make of it.

 _No way… couldn’t be…_ A dark part of your brain hoped. _He was too proud to admit that he actually wanted you to see him. But maybe he_ **_was_ ** _self conscious. Unless..._

Trying to learn from your past mistakes, you observed him and bit your lip. “Can I say something mildly inappropriate?”

Thorin paused but turned to face you with a twitch of a smile, offering a small nod as your go ahead while he refocused on the ceiling.

“You have the most breathtaking body I’ve ever seen.” There, you said it. Thorin’s head slowly turned in your direction and your eyes locked. Your body flushed with heat and he abruptly looked away, shifting against you uncomfortably; there was nowhere for him to go to get away. 

“Y/N,” he warned, closing his eyes as his voice dropped lower. “As well intentioned as that was, I think I would have preferred ignorance. I now feel even more exposed than before.”

“Hey, I did I ‘ogle’, after all. And don't act so proud; you got a good look at me, too, so you aren’t necessarily an innocent bystander.” 

He chuckled at that. “I am ashamed to admit it, but yes... this is true. You are trouble. Mahal, for a female…” The sentence drifted and lingered as he reconsidered saying whatever it was he intended to say. You glanced at him, hoping that he would continue but found that he was grinning. For the first time ever. And it was a beautiful sight.

“I should have realized how much you remind me of my kin. Your bluntness is like that of a dwarrowdam.”

Nibbling your lip as you smiled, you wondered if that was supposed to be a compliment until Thorin confirmed your suspicions, “That was intended as a compliment, if you were curious.”

“Is that so? Maybe I’ve got some dwarf blood in me!” you giggled. You didn’t believe it in the slightest, but it somehow made you feel closer to him. Plus, this was the first real compliment you received from the guy and it was really nice. 

Thorin made a dubious sound that rumbled from his chest, sounding close to a growl. 

“I doubt it. For one, you are far too hairless.”

Thinking he was referring to your bare body, you blushed and shoved him. You may as well as shoved a mountain. His powerful, majestic body didn’t move an inch. He was eyeing you with peculiar amusement behind bright blue eyes. 

“Yeah, well, you’ve got plenty of hair for the both of us.”

His eyes flashed and darkened all at once and your body heated up in response. All of a sudden, you were back in the bathroom where the naked Thorin was. Your eyes exploring each other’s bodies for the first time entirely by accident. You know you liked what _you_ saw, but given his expression just now, you had a mind to believe that Thorin liked what he was seeing, too. 

Well, he was _now_ at least. 

His chest rose and fell deeply and steadily while his breath left him through his parted lips. 

"You are perfect just as you are. Body and soul," he murmured. "Allow no one to convince you otherwise."

You blushed, taken aback from his confession. You knew by the expression on his face that it was an honest one. 

"Not even you?" you whispered. 

"Especially me," he breathed. 

Both of you were separated by mere inches that were fading away in maddening increments. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you took in his handsome features, struggling to comprehend if this was really happening. Thorin’s pupils were blown slightly while they settled on your lips. The thick, dark mane of hair that wasn’t fanned out on his pillow was draped behind him to expose the thick ropes in his neck. 

Hidden inside his short beard were thin, tempting lips. Thorin’s tongue flicked out to wet them and you watched him swallow before he adjusted his position so that his body was facing yours while you were still resting on your back. You wanted to turn towards him but didn’t want to appear presumptuous, though you were dangerously hoping anyway. As he turned over, some of his wavy hair, and braid, swung down to frame the side of his face. 

A large, warm palm rose up between you and tenderly took hold of your jaw and chin. You leaned in to the touch to encourage him on, not trusting your voice, and you drew yourself closer until your noses touched.

Thorin paused for a beat and seemed to gather his senses in the stirrings of this intimate moment blooming between you but before he could pull away you found courage to lift your face up and slanted your mouth over his. Thorin’s grip on your jawline tightened and he inhaled sharply upon contact. You felt him kiss you back before he jerked free. The kiss was over as soon as it started.

But you wanted more. Your own chest was rising and falling rapidly in anticipation as you looked up at him praying that he would answer your quiet pleas. 

His half-lidded blue eyes searched your eyes thoroughly, searching for something.

Then without a word, Thorin’s hand slid from your face and his upper half was braced up with his arm by the side of your shoulder. With his other hand, he took hold of the opposite side of your face and roughly slammed lips back on yours with a growl. 

You whimpered in delight at the strength surging in him, tickled slightly by how soft his beard was against your smooth skin. He eased his hold on you by sifting the roughened pads of fingers up into your hair to tilt your head back so he could lean into you without using his full weight. Your mouths opened, greedily accepting what the other had to offer while giving back what you could. One kiss turned into two. Two heated into three until they all blended together in a blinding rush of hands and lips. 

Sounds of your kissing turned sloppy and wet when Thorin’s tongue parted your lips and tangled with your own and in a gasp, your arms shot out to his biceps; you needed something to hold onto to solidify that you weren’t dreaming. That you were right here with him. Your body rippled with an overwhelming amount of pleasure and you clenched your legs together to hold in the dam threatening to break between them. 

Peeking your eyes open, you saw Thorin’s brows locked down with a fierce look of determination on his face while he panted out quiet noises into your mouth. You tried to pull him down on top of you but he remained right where he was, maintaining the contact on your lips and face only. You whined in protest, yearning to feel the heaviness of him sinking on top of you. But Thorin had made it abundantly clear who was in control here. 

He wetly broke away from your lips, taking your bottom lip with him between his white teeth before releasing them and you chased right after them. Thorin groaned deeply in his throat and leaned you back down on your pillow. Being careful not to touch your chest in any way, he sunk down to rest on his elbows nestled against the sides of your torso. Heat was radiating off of him in waves and his scent flared in your nose from his hair acting as curtains for your faces. You drank him in deep into your lungs. Thorin was breathing raggedly in and out through his nose while you continued tasting each other and you could sense his rising desperation in each breath and grunt he made and couldn’t help but notice the way his shoulders rolled. 

But no matter how hard you tried to pull him into you, your efforts were only met with grunts and stubborn dwarven strength as he remained locked in place. 

Your hands moved up from the hardness of his arms and into his hair and beard to cup his face, also holding the thick locks out of the way. Your fingers brushed by his ears as you pulled it back and you gave a gentle tug, mewling into his mouth when he thrust his tongue in a steady pulse, mimicking the act of sex. Rolling your hips while your thighs remained tightly clenched for friction, you suggestively sucked his hot tongue inside your own mouth in a rhythm of what you wanted to do to the heavy sex hanging between his legs and his breath went in on a gasp and came out in a moan. You continued sucking on him until Thorin pulled back to look at you. You both were breathing hard. Your faces flushed the same shade of pink, eyes both full of desire and want. 

Your lips felt swollen and plump from his kisses and his own glistened in the moonlight streaming in through the window. Thorin was the most gorgeous, regal-looking creature you’ve ever seen. You were happy to be able to see him this way, that he was letting you. But you were greedy… you wanted to feel his skin. Feel his powerful, hard body thrusting and pumping inside of you, claiming you as his. 

A rush of all the hardship you endured due to the other throughout the journey riled you up until fucking each other senseless seemed the only necessary response to release the stress. 

“I want you,” you panted through a whisper. You didn’t bother hiding the wanton desperation from your voice. You were positively soaking in your undergarments primed and ready. All these weeks of arguing building up to a sweet sexual release that you wanted him to grant you. Gods knew the chemistry was there. Perhaps it always was. 

He cursed in a language you couldn’t detect and closed his eyes tightly. You could tell he wanted this and it made your desire for him soar. Then you remembered Beth’s words from earlier ringing through your head: _Don’t be afraid to guide him or take the reins every once in a while._

“Kiss me,” you demanded, fisting his tunic to draw him closer as you leaned up to flick your tongue along his bottom lip.

With an animalistic growl, he wrenched both your hands above your head and held them together in a one-handed grip and used his free hand to roughly cradle the underside of your jaw up so he could properly angle your face just where he wanted to. Then he dropped a kiss on your lips, coaxing and massaging them apart and flicking his tongue deep inside. 

It was a delicious treat to discover just how long his tongue was, feeling it exploring your mouth with avid enthusiasm to learn every part.  

You moaned his name as he pressed tingling kisses along your neck and then came home to your lips once more. 

He grunted into each kiss, swallowing your mewling, cooing sounds of satisfaction as he fucked your mouth with his tongue while you writher beneath him. The taste of him set your skin on fire and sweat broke all over you. His touch turned your nipples to stone and your core to molten lava. Thorin attacked your mouth again and again, tilting his head in various angles, biting your lips, applying varying pressures, sucking them in, sucking your tongue; driving you mad with lust and arousal. 

“Fuck, Thorin…!” you managed to squeak in between his pleasurable assault on you. 

In his baritone voice, he darkly whispered something against your lips in that foreign language and that did you in. One of your hands broke free and dove down to your aching core, desperate to relieve yourself after getting set off by the sound of his delicious voice since he obviously wasn’t going to do anything about it. He continued kissing you while you tended to yourself -- though you’d much rather _he_ do it -- and as your movements increased in fervor in time with his tongue, he stopped in confusion, looked down and froze. 

“Durin’s _fucking beard…_ ” he rasped heavily, shuddering at the wet squelching sounds coming from under your trousers. 

You offered your breasts to him by tilting your hips. As wonderful and tantalizing as his lips were, you needed to feel his hands. “Thorin, touch me. _Now_.” 

For reasons unknown to you, he only gazed at your breasts torn for a moment while you felt yourself getting closer. 

“Gods, _please…_ I’m almost there,” you begged, your hand stalling its movement in his untimely hesitation. 

He heaved a breath and lifted his gaze to yours and something flickered behind his eyes then and you felt your heart sink and your building release fade. There was a distance forming between you. Thorin was building up his walls again and you didn’t know why. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked in concern. 

“This.”

A coldness creeped into your bones, replacing the warmth his kind words and wicked touch had put there and you turned your face away. It felt like your insides had fallen to pieces. From his quiet rejection came the regurgitated knowledge that constantly plagued you: Thorin truly did have a hold on you. He was capable of pressing your buttons to enlighten you, anger you, surprise you, please you, and break you down at any given moment. And you let him every time. 

You understood that you felt something for Thorin, but if this was love, you didn’t want it. There were too many ups and downs, both intense in their own right and equally delightful and awful. You hated this humiliating position your heart put you in, the little sadistic bastard. A combination of emotions such as confusion, shame, and anger battled for dominance meanwhile you couldn’t even put together words -- or rather, words that weren’t intended to wound and maim.

Thorin released the hand he still had a hold of above you and you calmly clasped them together across your front. Thorin lingered above you for a while longer as if he wanted to say something but when nothing came out, you felt the tickle of his long hair brushing against your exposed skin when he finally retracted back beside you. 

You heard him sigh and felt a shift but you were still too upset to give him your proper attention so you kept your focus on the window to your left. Willing yourself not to focus on whatever failure that had been made on your part that put a stop to whatever it was going on between you. 

“Y/N, do not misunderstand,” he began gently. 

You flopped over and pegged him with a good, hard glare. His face was hardened and you hated that you still wanted him, even though he turned you down.  

“Oh no? Your rejection was crystal clear.”

He closed his eyes. “I had to--”

“You know what?” You cut the air with your hand. “Don’t explain. I’d rather not know.” 

“Y/N, I do not want you to go sleep being upset with me. Let me ex--”

“A little late for that.”

Thorin placed a feather light hand on yours and squeezed before uttering a word you never heard him use, “Please.”

You wanted to give in to him, but after going through so many varying emotions from fighting to getting turned on then rejected all within the hour, you were too emotionally spent. It was too much. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Fundinson.”

Thorin jerked his hand away. After a sharp sigh, he heavily rolled over on his side so that his broad back was facing you. The mating heat in the air around you fizzled down substantially from flames, to embers, and finally to ash. Disappointment and sexual frustration welled up and stung you from inside your chest but you swallowed it down like the cold, hard medicine it was.

And much like medicine, maybe this was for the better; good for you, even. But it didn’t make accepting it taste any less awful. 

On the one hand, you didn’t want to be anywhere near him. You wanted to kick his perfectly sculpted ass right off the bed. But a part of you had already forgiven him and wanted desperately to fling your arms around him and apologize for reacting the way you did and for whatever you did beforehand that gave him pause.

Instead, you did neither of those things. You laid there staring unseeing at the ceiling while Thorin slumbered quietly beside you while you begged for sleep you didn't think would ever come. It wasn’t until later that night, after falling going under, that you had subconsciously decided upon clinging to this insufferable dwarf, holding him close in your arms and burying your face into his neck through his hair.

Even if you were awake, you’d have missed the breath of relief that had escaped Thorin’s lips. Or the small smile that came after as he could finally find rest through the comfort of your touch.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I’ve been having a severe case of writer’s block lately and have been finding it difficult to find motivation to write anything for both new and continuing chapters for this series. I was thankful that Leap Year sparked a chapter out of me, but I’ve been strugglin’. To make up for my lack of updates, I made this chapter a little longer than usual -- don’t hate meee! :’D Thanks to all my usual readers, new ones, and anon supporters for reading and for your continued support! It makes me happy seeing your comments and kudos; it encourages me to keep going!


	10. A Fighting Chance (DwalinxReader) Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final installment to A Fighting Chance. Due to a misunderstanding, Dwalin reconsiders his chances with you. And after his intentions are finally brought to light, you realize that you have feelings for him, as well. The only trouble is Dwalin won't talk to you. But with the help from a couple friends, Dwalin and you finally talk things out before he leaves for the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, I can't believe this series has 800 hits -- I'm floored and humbled by all the interest this had garnered. Thank you all so much!
> 
> The general consensus for the ending of this lovely piece was spicy fluff, so spicy fluff you shall have! I hope you enjoy! :D
> 
> (Part 3 of 3)

“What’d you do to my brother, lass?” Balin asked in a hushed voice after plopping down beside you on Bard’s barge. The way he asked seemed more like an accusation than a question. And far as you were concerned, you had committed no wrongs as of late, least of all to Dwalin. If anything, Balin should be asking _Dwalin_ what was wrong with _him_.  

After the surprise attack, and all the horrifying events that followed, you haven’t had a chance to tend to Dwalin at all, let alone speak to him fully. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. You tried. But he wouldn’t see to it. The most time you spent together since the night Dwalin gave you the dagger was when he was shielding you from harm and checking you for injuries. After that, he left you to yourself and… well, you felt a bit tossed aside. And you were surprised at how much that hurt.

You didn’t realize how dependent you became on his company until he stopped being around -- and just when you were finally able to hold conversations with one another, too.

Dwalin backing off couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time. You could have used his presence for comfort now. Used _him_ for comfort. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw it... that orc coming after you. There was no way you’d ever forget your life flashing before you when its sword swung all up close and personal to your face. It came to mind every day and you counted your lucky stars for making it out somewhat unscathed. 

Instead of being the brave woman Dwalin thought you were, you just… froze up; clutching the dagger he gave you to use for protecting yourself, forgetting everything he told you about how to use it as you awaited for your head to be split in two. 

You still sported an angry bruise on your cheekbone from when the hilt of its weapon struck you, but before the final, fatal blow could land, Dwalin’s body slammed you out of the way and he collided his ax so deep into the filth’s disgusting face that when he pulled the blade out you were surprised its head didn't come off with it.

You’ve never seen Dwalin so enraged… and he didn’t stop there. He went after every single orc in sight. His battle roars filled the air and mingled with the war cries of his kin and the strangled shrieks of dying orcs. If you weren’t in such a state of shock, you’d have been a little turned on by the sheer power of Dwalin's fighting prowess. He was an actual, honest-to-Eru warrior. 

But the truth of it was, you couldn’t quite snap out of your daze with all the violence commencing around you. You vaguely recalled using your own dagger for defense at one point by reflex but all you kept seeing was that orc with its weapon poised above you, giving you dangerous pause. It was going around your head on repeat until everything and everyone in front of you took on that horrid form. Someone hoisted you to your feet and pulled you away to safety at some point, you can’t recall who, and after that your mind was numb from the trauma. 

Still a bit shell shocked by the whole thing after all the orcs were killed, when Dwalin approached you, there was still fire in his eyes of complete and utter hatred, and he was covered in blood. Gods, just the smell of it was distinctly foul and you’d never forget it. When he came over to you, all you saw was that orc with its weapon raised high above your head, so you cowered and flinched away not even realizing who it was. It wasn’t until his soft voice reached your ears that you finally could comprehend that you were safe and you finally felt at ease.

But there wasn’t any time for rest, because soon after you all spent time in a horrid forest plagued with giant spiders, thrown into an elven dungeon, fighting more orcs -- again -- and now riding a barge to your final destination. Although Dwalin kept close by at all times, you felt a distance between you. A finality. Many times you tried talking to him asking how he was, if he was okay, if he was hurt, but you got nowhere. Sure, Dwalin was the first to your side the moment danger was present, but once it was eradicated, he left. 

So for Balin to start making demands as to what you did to Dwalin, well, he could shove those up where the sun don't shine. 

”Excuse me?” you reply carefully. 

“I’ve never seen him so down before, and he was still himself earlier. So, I’ll ask again: what have you done to my brother?” he repeated, making sure so no one else would hear. 

“What do you mean? And what makes you think _I_ have anything to do with it?” you asked perplexed, wondering if Dwalin had spoken to his older brother about something to lend a clue to his sudden change in behavior. As much as you racked your brain, you had no idea what you could have possibly done wrong. But it was obviously something; he still spoke to the others with no issue. 

“Listen, lassie, he won’t tell me a thing and I need to know what happened between you before he gets himself hurt. He’s been slippin’ lately and we can’t afford him to lose his head when we’re this close to home. If it’s not you, then what in Durin’s beard is  going on with him? Please, I’m gettin’ worried. Was it a fight?”

You shook your head and sighed and leaned forward on your knees. You were worried, too. Every time you tried to go near Dwalin, he’d turn away from you or outright leave. He wouldn’t even allow you to check him for injuries! Was it possible that with Laketown just around the bend, he was glad to finally glad to be getting rid of you? 

If you were to be honest with yourself, the thought of losing your bodyguard made your heart sink into your boots. As much as you wished to be rid of him before, you had grown rather attached to Dwalin. Especially when he started acting so nice to you. When you finally gave him a chance, you got to see that there was more to him under all that gruff exterior than he let on -- and you liked it. What in heavens name was going on?

Since you kept coming up empty, you supposed you could entrust what little you knew with Balin. Maybe together you could both determine what was wrong with him and finally get him to talk to you. Surely, the reason for the distance couldn’t be you. Having been full aware that Dwalin could take care of himself, you did notice a sudden shift in his demeanor. But if the big brute went and got himself hurt over something you did and refused to even talk to you about it, then refusing your care, that would raise questions and, more importantly, give you more heartache than you’d care to admit. 

Because… when it came down to it, somehow, someway, you cared for Dwalin. Deeply. 

“I can’t really say,” you admitted honestly. And you didn’t even know where to start.

Balin frowned, “Might I ask why?”

He was very attentive while you explained your side of the story to the best of your ability of everything that you noticed before the battle and what happened after. He nodded when appropriate and never once interrupted you. You explained that you were worried, but Dwalin just won’t talk to you, so after getting it all out in the open you admitted the likelihood that perhaps it _was_ something you said or did. And you were just as concerned about Dwalin as his brother was. 

When you finished and he took the time to digest the words, Balin’s gaze had softened and he gave a very understanding look.

“Ah, I see.”

“It’s really bothersome… I keep trying to talk to him, but he won’t even look at me. Maybe Dwalin’s just glad to finally be rid of his bodyguard obligations.” Your shoulders slumped in defeat and you felt Balin’s comforting hand on your shoulder, “I’ll be honest, in the beginning, it was really difficult growing accustomed to his personality. He’d be so… harsh one moment and then really sweet the next. And just when I finally grew to like him and care about him--” You caught yourself and stopped and shook your head. “But I guess when all is said and done, he really _does_ hate me after all. And don’t even get me started on his mood swings-- oh, wait! Maybe that’s what this is! Was he always so hot and cold?”

You could see it now. That would be such a typical Dwalin move. Be as brusque as possible one moment, then turn around and make amends. He never usually took this long, but you were already sitting on pins and needles. You didn’t even think of that. 

Balin chuckled and you pouted at him, seeing no humor in this. 

“Lassie, for spending so much time around dwarves -- _male_ dwarves at that -- I’m surprised you still know so little and can think such silly thoughts. I can tell ya without a shred of a doubt that Dwalin is the veriest of saps that ever were and he doesn’t hate ya. But he is a proud dwarrow who’s equally hard headed and you make him very nervous; more of a ‘take action’ sort of lad than any. He doesn’t know how to express himself in a, well, more _gentlemanly_ manner. Dwalin’s never been in love before, so he isn’t sure what to do or how to behave, I reckon. And being that yer a human, that must've really put him for a spin.”

What. 

Balin casually breezed on without pause despite dropping that huge bomb on you. 

“Poor lad’s been musterin’ up the might to ask you to court him for months. I thought he’d never get around to askin’ but I’m happy for him -- for both of ya. You both are a right fine pair. And don’t worry, whatever tissy he’s goin’ through, I know he’ll come round and you’ll both be back to--”

He stopped abruptly when he took in the sight of your shocked expression. Your brows furrowed in deep confusion. Dwalin, a sap? And he _loved_ you? How? Why? Since when?!  

“What’s wrong?”

You could actually feel the blood draining from your face as you took in the words, wondering if you misheard him.

“What did you just say?”

His confused eyes whisked from Dwalin to you and back again before he lifted a brow. “By my beard, did Dwalin say somethin’ snarky to ya to give you doubt? He never was the best with words, especially when he’s stressed. Don’t you let what he said get--”

You held your shaky hand up to stop him, “Hold on. I’m having a bit of trouble processing this. How do you know he loves me? Are you absolutely sure about that?”  

Balin blanched and then broke out into a soft laugh. “Any fool can see _that_! He follows you around like your own shadow! He sleeps by ya every night, protects ya as he would his king, and every time I look over at him, his eyes are all over ya. The value of the courting gifts alone spoke volumes enough of how high he heralds you that the lads were almost afraid of gettin’ too close to ya lest they get roped into a duel with your suitor.” He patted your knee affectionately. 

 _Your_ **_suitor_** _?_

You bristled with renewed panic and an onslaught of emotions you couldn’t quite place. 

“C-courting gifts?!”

The gravity of the situation was now visible in your wide eyes and you covered your mouth with your hand as your brain began to short-circuit itself thinking back to review what you could have missed from Dwalin’s actions to suggest romantic intent that’s when Balin suddenly arrived to the conclusion that he may have seriously misinterpreted the entire situation. 

“...he _did_ ask you to court him, didn’t he?” 

When all you could manage was a numb shake of your head, it was Balin’s turn to pale before he buried his face in his hands. He seemed even more upset at this than when he initially approached you.  

“May the heavens forgive me…” He muttered a few curses in his native tongue that went over your head, but he sounded deeply perturbed and then he refocused on you with attentive seriousness. “Don’t ever tell him I told you this. It was not at my liberty to make this declaration on his behalf, I just assumed that he…” Balin finished with another harsh dwarven curse.  

He cast a pained, apologetic look Dwalin’s way, who at the moment was focused on Thorin, no doubt in a deep discussion of their own. That was probably for the best. There was no way you could have faced him while you gaped like a fish with this startling newsflash. 

You swallowed a couple times and took some deep breaths. “Are you _sure_ he was displaying courting signs?”

Balin nodded and sighed deeply,  “Aye, without a doubt. He did go through a lot of trouble for those gifts, too. Do human suitors not offer such tokens when they express their interest?”

“Yes, but I had no idea that-that Dwalin…” You blushed just at the thought of him seeing you in a romantic light, still baffled by the mere idea of it all. 

Balin’s brows creased in confusion, “How could you not have known?”

How?! Because he _loved_ you. Dwalin! This big, warrior brute of a dwarf loved _you_. YOU! After all this time of you thinking he hated your guts. This was a hard topic to come to terms with. If you were told this by anyone but Balin, you’d have laughed it off as a joke. But you trusted him, for he rarely jested about anything, especially about serious matters. 

“So, what of the gifts? You said he gave me courting gifts?” you muttered weakly, thinking back on which thing he gave you that stood out most as you waited for Balin to confirm. Dwalin didn’t even make a big deal about giving them to you! How the world were you supposed to know?!

“Aye. Remember that feast we had a couple weeks ago? That was mountain boar meat, a rare delicacy he wanted to feed you as means to showcase how strong and capable he was. You got the best part of that cut, don’t you remember? That was a dwarrow’s way -- Dwalin’s way -- of tellin’ ya that he would brave the most dangerous game to keep ya properly fed.”

You recalled how Dwalin fixed you your plate, not leaving until he saw you eat it, how protective he was when your food was being sought after, and how honored he looked when you fed him that special piece. Well, if that wasn’t a stab through the heart… But even so!

You quirked an eyebrow, “And how the hell was I supposed to know that meat was intended for courting purposes? I thought he was being kind!”

Balin suddenly seemed to understand that, though it may have seemed common sense to them as dwarves, you were still a human and obviously didn’t share that likeness in your own culture. 

The old dwarf nodded when that realization dawned on him and he stroked his beard, “Perhaps that was an oversight on his part. But he fastened you a fine cloak from its hide as means to offer you warmth and gave you one of his weapons as a symbol of protection,” he explained patiently. The hidden meaning of his tone being, _Surely you’re not daft enough to have mistaken_ **_that_** _?_

But apparently you were. Boy, this was a lot to take in. Here you were thinking Dwalin was just being sweet for a change, but all these little hidden meanings were layered through all of his actions and you hadn't a clue at the time. If anything, the time you spent with him only served to open you up to him and then confuse your feelings and thoughts as he continuously flip flopped between being a brute and a sweetheart. 

Your hand found its way into your pocket and you thumbed the tiny gemstone between your fingers, as you tended to do more often than not nowadays. Since you traveled frequently, you didn't have many opportunities to enjoy anyone "chasing after you", as it were. The little experience you had with potential suitors all came round at your hometown during your teen years, and they all did the same things. The difference between human suitors and dwarves were staggering, so how could you have known?

“I still have no idea how I could have possibly--” The sentence was dropped like broken glass as you fiddled with the fragment.

All of a sudden, everything made sense. The staring, the awkward short-lived conversations, the meaningless scrapes he brought to you, his odd behavior. _When he let you touch his beard_ , you thought with a blush. 

“Oh, dear.”

Balin watched on sadly as you finally connected the dots. In the past when interested suitors were displaying their intentions, they gifted you with tokens of affection as well -- flowers mostly, or love letters; obviously very different objects that were the typical go-to’s for Man -- but the boys also stuttered and mumbled in your presence, and were always around ensuring it was only them you saw, or finding stupid excuses just to talk to you. Dwalin did the exact same thing, just in a dwarven way. Gods, how could you have missed that? The gifts were easily overlooked, but his behavior was a dead giveaway, if you were paying attention. 

“All this time he…” you whispered to yourself, thinking about how tenderly he held your face as he vowed to always protect you whether he was your bodyguard or not. How he looked at you. How red his face got during the beginning and how nervous he was when he spoke to you.

Balin said, “Those were all displays of courting intent in our culture and you accepted them all whether you realized it or no. Naturally, I figured he finally got around to askin’ and… well anyway that’s neither here nor there. It doesn’t mean you have to _return_ his affections, but even so he probably assumed you knew his intentions and reciprocated them. In regards to how he’s treatin’ ya now, perhaps something happened between you to put him off and that was why he never proceeded to the verbal request. That’s just a hard guess, I can’t say fer sure, though.”

“Oh dear…” you repeated, feeling his hand rubbing your back in support. 

“I know you weren’t intentionally giving him hope when there was none, but he does care for ya deeply. He told me himself. Do you have any interest in Dwalin at all, lassie?” Balin asked gently. 

You glanced over to where Dwalin was. He was still standing next to Thorin as they both stared out into the fog, hoping to catch a glimpse of their mountain. A deep part of you thought that even though he was at the other end of the barge, he was too far away from you. Still within eyesight, but too far out of reach. 

“I…” 

In a blinding rush you gave serious consideration on how it would make you feel courting Dwalin. If he had asked you as planned (without the traumatic orc attack), what would you have said? You knew it would have caught you off guard and your reaction would be akin to how Balin spilled the beans, which would have turned you into a confused, sputtering mess and likely have discouraged Dwalin enough to storm off before you could answer. So it was probably for the best that you found out by accident.

You couldn’t help but cling to his brusque nature and hard words, as it was the first impression he had left with you with, so you forced those thoughts aside and focused on all the kind things he did instead. It obviously took a lot of effort and courage on his part given how prideful he is and how new to romancing he was, as Balin noted. Dwalin could protect you with everything he had, he could feed and clothe you, and he was capable of being so gentle and warm. Not to mention, he was very handsome, in a rugged, fierce sort of way. 

It was startling how easy it was for you to imagine how nice waking up next to him would feel like. Or living your lives together, caring for his wounds, or talking at night. Always being together. You thought back to when he gave you the dagger and for a moment, before Gloin interrupted, you wondered if that fleeting spark you felt thinking he wouldn't be crazy enough to kiss you was not missed by Dwalin. Thinking about it now, you wished he would have kissed you then just to see what it would be like. But at the time, it was such an absurd thought that you didn't even grant it the levity it deserved.

You felt your heart opening to the idea of being with Dwalin, liking the thought more and more. 

“I believe I do… yes. I can see myself loving him, but he won’t let me get anywhere near. Will you help me?” you asked Balin.

His eyes twinkled mischievously. 

“I think I may have a plan ‘er two to nudge him in the right direction.” Balin leaned over to whisper the rest in your ear. 

 

* * *

 

“How can you say such nonsense?” Thorin asked as if the sentiment was directed towards him. 

“You didn’t see the way the lass looked at me, Thorin. She… she looked upon me with such fear in ‘er eyes, believin’ with all her soul that I meant her harm.” Dwalin shook his head. He would never forget that. Your (E/C) eyes wide with horror looking up at the one person sworn to protect you. The one person you should have felt safest with. “I failed her.”

“No, you saved her life and on more than one occasion. I imagine she was shaken up by the course of events. Have you spoken with her since that attack? Properly?”

“I cannot bear to bring myself to meet her eye. I’m too ashamed.”

Thorin regarded him tersely, “It is not like you to behave so recreantly.”

Dwalin pursed his lips and gave Thorin a hard stare over his shoulder followed swiftly with a warning growl. He was already irked and uneasy around this Bard person whom he didn’t trust in the slightest, but you were always a touchy subject for him regardless of added stresses.

“Furthermore,” Thorin continued, unfazed, “As an outside observer, I recall her approaching you on several occasions and you have denied her your audience, have you not?”

“Careful, Thorin. My king or no, this is none of yer business,” Dwalin growled back. 

“I am not speaking to you as your king. I am speaking to you as your friend who wishes only for the happiness you are denying yourself. Laketown approaches; we still have much to do on our quest and you may not be granted a second chance at this again. Talk to your lady. As much as I support your rather untimely romantic endeavors, I cannot forsake the fate of this quest. Whether or not you proceed to courting her, we will continue on.” 

Dwalin sighed, bringing a large hand over his face. He twisted his body so he could look over his other shoulder to sneak a peek at you knowing you wouldn't be looking at him. You were sitting next to his brother with your eyes fixed on your shoes but your sight was elsewhere. Balin had a hand on your back and looked up just in time to meet Dwalin’s stare. 

Thorin was right. You had tried countless times to approach him since the incident and he turned you away. Poor thing...probably thought you had wronged him somehow, when really he was the one who failed you. As rational as Thorin’s kind words were, Dwalin couldn’t help but feel he failed his lass. And now here you were at your destination. Dwalin didn't want to disappoint his king, but on the inside he couldn't help but panic. Should he continue? Or should he cut his losses and leave his One behind?

His eyes met his brother's again and he knew without either of them saying a word that Balin had words for him later. And they were about you. 

Dwalin welcomed the distraction of Erebor coming into view through the fog, though with it came the finality of your journey’s end and pressing urgency of racing to his own. He wasn’t sure if he had the strength to leave you here without telling you how he felt. But he also was unsure if he had the strength to get over the feeling of being unworthy. Too annoyed to continue feeding his thoughts on all these what-ifs, Dwalin decided to focus on his main quest.

Though as he and his kin entered Laketown, his mood only served to grow fouler at each passing circumstance that followed. 

 

* * *

 

Why did Dwalin think this would be easy? How could he possibly ask you to court him now after all that transpired? Even after Balin pulled him aside to bestow some brotherly wisdom and encouragement on him, after everything and what he wound up doing as a result, he just couldn’t bring himself to ask you. 

But... he had to... 

He couldn’t! 

_He must._

Dwalin punched his fist into the wall. He was going back and forth with himself with this vexing uncertainty as to whether or not he should finish the courting ritual or let you go for the umpteenth time. The sodding, sappy side of him that was in love with you refused to give in. But the part of him that was ashamed protested profusely. 

He had come so far and his endeavors had all been successful! But at the end of the day he couldn’t forgive himself for failing you like that. In his rage to defend you from harm, he’d turned into a monster in your eyes.

Thorin made a convincing argument. This was his last chance. But still… he couldn’t get over his actions. And after pushing you away like he did, he doubted he would stand any chance at asking you to be his now. You stopped approaching him and he feared that maybe you moved on. This whole situation put him in a dangerous mood coupled with being in this sodding town. 

“Well, hello there, Dwalin!” Bofur quipped in an annoyingly optimistic tone. Dwalin was not in the proper sorts to reciprocate such cheerful pleasantries so he crossed his arms and scowled. 

“What do ye want?”

Bofur didn’t let Dwalin’s surliness get to him and offered a patient smile as he took post next to him. 

“Me?” he replied innocently. “I want a lot of things: Big mug of ale, a 3-day feast, new clothes, definitely a bath. Maybe even a bonnie lass of my own to bring home and settle down with…”

Dwalin’s ears perked up at that last part. Immediately he thought of you and how badly he wanted to give you a home; a much better home than this dump. This place wasn't worthy of keeping you! It was all rot and filth! And they were to leave you here as if you were rubbish! But there was nothing Dwalin could do about it. He seethed in silence. Sure, he would have killed for some ale of his own, but he could get that anywhere. Same with a hot meal and a bath. But you? You were the only lass like yourself in the world. And he’d be leaving you here… in _this_. When you should be with him. 

He didn't trust a soul in this place. Not even Bard. 

“And speaking of fair maidens,” Bofur hinted heavily, causing Dwalin to throw him a warning glare. “What’s goin’ on with you and Miss Y/N?”

“None of yer business, that’s what!” 

Bofur frowned in contemplation as he brought a hand to his chin, “See, the strangest thing has been puzzlin’ me lately. We all know you fancy her. After putting in all that work for her rather splendid courting gifts, I can’t help but assume that ye haven’t asked her hand in courtship yet. Now, why is that?”

Dwalin snarled and faced the shorter dwarf chest to chest. Bofur flinched at the confrontation but didn’t move, which Dwalin couldn’t help but respect despite him irking the everloving hell out of him. But nonetheless he was getting mighty irritated by the others getting all up in his personal business with his love life. 

Using their customs, Dwalin had made it clear to the Company on several occasions his intentions with you. Everyone acknowledged and respected it by not interfering with the process. And though Thorin and Balin’s concern for Dwalin’s sudden stagnancy would have pissed him off, he knew their intentions as his family were the only exceptions he'd be willing to grant. Nobody else, however, had any say over his lack of resolve for completing the ritual. As such, Bofur had to have some serious cojones to confront Dwalin about his methods. 

“You’d do well to mind yer tongue, lad,” Dwalin replied. His tone was as sharp as his ax and twice as strong.

“Just tryin’ to understand, is all. Yer not the type to give up so easily and we’re at Laketown now. Either she refused your offer, or you didn’t ask. But since you haven’t retracted yer claim on her, I’m thinkin’ it’s the latter. Why would you have pause at such an opportune time?”

Dwalin grabbed Bofur by his collar and dragged him close, “It would be in yer best interest to keep yer nose out of my personal affairs. I will not tell ya again as kindly.”

Bofur glared back at him, “I’m not pressin’ into your affairs, I’m pressin’ into hers.” 

Dwalin quirked a brow and shoved him away, not understanding what he meant by that. Bofur straightened out his clothing and hat and leveled a stare on the warrior once he regained his footing. 

“Y/N’s been tryin’ to talk to ya for days. Yer causing her distress and that isn’t fair to her. She’s accepted all of your gifts, has she not? What’s stoppin’ you from finishing? Mahal, we’re in Laketown and then off to face off a dragon! You won't exactly have time fer romancing from here on, if at all.”

Dwalin thought to reveal his thoughts to Bofur, but since they weren't close enough to speak of such things, he wasn’t sure how to phrase his concerns. Or if he should at all. His indecision was being monitored very sharply.

“Ye think ye aren’t worthy? Oh, I’ll take that look as a yes,” Bofur smirked. “Why’s that then?”

Dwalin brushed a hand over his face and through his beard and groaned in agitation. “I failed her, Bofur. She doesn’t feel safe with me anymore--”

“That’s just rubbish! Seems like a poor excuse to me,” Bofur batted the air. Dwalin’s brows furrowed in disagreement. Nobody saw that look in your eyes. And he hated reliving that memory of you looking up at him with such fear. He’s your bodyguard -- _was_ , he thought dishearteningly -- and your intended suitor; he was supposed to make you feel safe. 

What if this was all for nothing? What if he’d misunderstood the signs he thought he was receiving? Just because you were his One doesn’t mean he was yours… And maybe that was for the best. You were with your own kind now. Away from dragons and orcs. Safe. Even though this town did not live up to his standards for you. He'd have preferred to shower you with those furs you wanted. With jewels and gowns. And braids... _his_ braids. 

“I almost wonder if she’d be better off with another fellow. Away from all this death and filth that I always get wrapped up in,” Dwalin sighed.

Bofur didn't appear to agree but nodded thoughtfully. “Aye… not the proper setting for a lass, I concur. But it’s only for now. Until after we reclaim Erebor; has nothin’ to do with courtin’ unless… you’re worried you won’t return to her?”

“I’m a fighter and a damn good one!” Dwalin argued. 

Bofur retorted firmly, “And she’s a healer -- she can handle herself a warrior and already proved that she has. Yer a perfect match! You plan to let her slip through your fingers over a wee few doubts?”

Dwalin huffed and turned his nose in the air, not dignifying this ridiculous dwarf with a response to his audacity.

“Fine. Looks like it’s fair game now. If ye don’t intend to move things along, then ye won’t mind if I pursued her. I know _I_ have every intention of heading back--”

“ _Over my bloody corpse! She's **my** One!_” Dwalin yelled in Khuzdul and stopped short when he realized he’d grabbed a fist full of Bofur’s tunic. A pair of brown eyes, although in obvious discomfort, stared defiantly back. Abruptly, he released him by dropping the lad to his feet. Dwalin closed his eyes and sighed, the fighter in him reigning victorious over his cowardly uncertainty of this bothersome situation. Sure, hypothetically, he could imagine passing you off to someone better suited for you all he wanted, but in the reality of it, he couldn’t let you go. Not when he put in all this effort. Not when he knows in his heart what he truly wants above all else. And especially not until he heard from your own mouth whether or not you wanted him for your life mate.

Bofur coughed and smoothed out his clothing and adjusted his hat again. He turned and smiled triumphantly and Dwalin wanted to punch him for even jesting of stealing you from him. But internally he offered a silent thanks. Without Bofur’s uncanny ability of getting under his skin, he wouldn’t have had the sense for clearing his head and reaffirming the besotted dwarrow in him.

“There’s yer answer then, isn’t it? To yer doubts." As if Bofur read his mind. With that in the clear, he started off, “I’d get on with it, if I were you. Sooner or later, someone will come along and snatch her up. And you’ll be regretting yer hesitance fer the rest of your days mulling over what could have been if you’d just gone and asked before it was too late.”

Bofur had a sad, downcast in his eye as he said this. A look Dwalin hadn’t ever seen him wear before. He became abruptly aware just then that he didn’t know the dwarrow very well at all. At least not on a personal level. Short of being jovial, optimistic, and a pain in Dwalin’s backside he had no clue any detail of his past or what Bofur’s life was like outside the Company. Which, given how they'd been traveling for over a year, was pretty terrible. 

But when your focus and interests are being placed elsewhere, that puts a lot into perspective doesn’t it?

Bofur grew awkward after offering that bit of friendly advice and started making signs that he was getting ready to leave Dwalin to his peace. But Dwalin sensed that there was something unsaid floating in the air. It was uncharacteristic of Bofur to be behaving this way. To approach him at all, for that matter. They were comrades at most and nowhere near friends. So, why the interest?

“Why do you care so much about this?” Dwalin demanded in stark confusion.

From over his shoulder before Bofur rounded the doorway, “Because I was forced to watch as someone else swept Y/N up off her feet while I was too afraid to make a move. Ever since we learned what type of qualities she liked in her lads, I knew it was you I was competing against and… I wasn’t sure if I had a shot. You fit the bill to her qualifications more than I did, but even today I can’t help but wonder if she would have been mine by now, if only I had the courage before you got there first.”

Dwalin’s eyes widened at this newfound knowledge. He knew Bofur was close with you and made it a point to have effortless conversations and laughs when given the chance but since Bofur never staked any claims for the others or gave you any gifts, he assumed the dwarrow’s goal was just being a good friend. A bit of a flirt, sure, but primarily your friend.

"What? Ye didn't know? Well," Bofur chortled out a laugh at Dwalin's expression and fiddled with his loopy mustache. "I suppose that means she doesn't either."

With the type of clarity that made Dwalin sick to his stomach just thinking about, he now realized how close he could have been to possibly losing you to someone else -- and the potential of losing you if he left without finishing the ritual. What would have happened if Dwalin never asked you what type of meat you liked? Or given you that cloak? Or invited you into the intimate act of touching his beard? Would you be courting Bofur right now? 

The possessive nature in Dwalin seethed at the thought of someone else claiming his One. 

Bofur’s forlorn look was washed away with a resolved smile directed towards Dwalin, “I may not have a fighting chance with ‘er anymore, but _you_ do. She cares for ya quite a bit, and though I may be one envious bugger, I wish you all the happiness in the world just the same. Y/N would have herself a fine suitor, if only he would get with the program.” 

And with a tip of his hat, Bofur was gone. 

 _She cares for ya quite a bit._  

He wondered if those words were true. Dwalin wanted so desperately for it to be so! But since he hasn’t been in your company as of late when it wasn’t taxed with keeping you safe, he didn’t have an inkling to what your real thoughts were. But then again, he never did.

Bofur was right. Dwalin had to finish the ritual. Unless you rejected him outright, he would continue to the end.

Even if his odds were shot, Dwalin made up his mind. Mahal, it was like starting all over again. But he was not a coward -- never has been and never will be. And he was going to complete the ritual. At the very least of this whole thing, he’d be able to go to bed knowing that he put himself out there and gave it all he had. But at the most?

Dwalin’s heart fluttered and swelled with emotion at the possibility of a successful outcome. At the most… he’d be the luckiest dwarrow in all of Middle Earth.

 

* * *

 

It's only been about ten minutes but it seemed like you've been waiting forever.

Balin told you to be patient, but with the Company preparing themselves in the other room to push forward, the clock was ticking your anxiety into a heart-wrenching frenzy. What if the plan failed? Bofur left the room Dwalin was in not too long ago and both you and Balin perked up. He bestowed upon you a simple smile before joining his kin in the other room. Looking to Balin in case you missed something, he gave you a very unhelpful shrug and you didn't know where you stood. 

Worst case scenario, you'd abandon the plan and make a complete and utter fool of yourself by approaching Dwalin directly, but Balin deemed that unwise. With Bofur finished, how much longer were you supposed to sit there and wait while--

“Y/N.” 

Your head whipped around over your shoulder, seeing Dwalin approaching you with purpose, “Dwalin!” 

You stole a quick look to Balin and your face went red as your nerves rattled. Was this it? Did it work? Was Dwalin finally going to talk to you? Balin gave you a small smile of encouragement and as soon as his brother saw him approaching, he gave a curt nod to him before excusing himself from your company. If Dwalin had found it in him to finally approach you for an actual conversation, then apparently Bofur’s talk with him was successful. 

Thank gods. 

After disembarking from the barge, Balin tried speaking to Dwalin the first chance they had after you all got settled at Bard’s and the dwarves tended to the next order of business in the trajectory of their quest. He pulled him aside to get a better handle on the situation and what was needed to give Dwalin that push he needed before they continued on. The dwarves stayed with you for now, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they pressed on and you remained behind in Laketown. 

You didn’t expect an invite from them to continue with the ragtag bunch, so it wasn’t a surprise when no offer was given. 

But time was of the essence now and you had to talk to Dwalin and express your feelings before it was too late. After Balin couldn’t get through to him, you weren’t sure why he suggested roping Bofur into your plan. From what little he explained to you, he felt that Bofur would know just the right buttons to press to instigate your suitor and the silly-hatted dwarf was only too happy to help "in the name of romance"; even throwing in a cheeky comment before he set to it, “Ye both better send me a wedding invite fer this or I’ll crash the party and drink ya blind!”

Before Balin left you and Dwalin alone, you stopped him for a moment to give a quick goodbye hug. You had already said your goodbyes to the others who would be leaving shortly to meet the town and Balin stayed behind to see that your plan didn’t fall through, bless his heart. 

After he departed, you turned around and paused when you faced Dwalin. You could feel your heart clenching in your chest and fought to slow your racing heart when you suddenly assumed that this must have been what he felt all those months ago when he was first trying to talk to you. 

If only you’d known then what you did now. 

Both of you stood there a little longer than comfortable and you shyly tucked some hair behind your ear and gestured the spot Balin previously sat in, “Would you like to sit?” 

He opened his mouth to protest, but then he frowned, “Thinkin’ it’s fer the best.”

You took a seat across from him, soaking his visual into your sight, wondering why he looked so troubled. What did Bofur say to him? Bofur gave you and Balin nothing to go on but a smile after he was finished with his task, but that was it. What if Dwalin changed his mind and no longer wanted to pursue you? You brought a hand to your throat and willed yourself to stay calm. Desperately clinging on to all the things Balin told you about how much Dwalin cared for you to pull you through your worries.  

“Y/N, I’m sorry fer avoidin’ ye.”

“It’s okay, Dwalin, I’m just glad we’re able to talk now.” The _before you leave_ in that sentence went unsaid. Dwalin’s eyes clenched shut and he grumbled to himself. 

There was no way of knowing where his head was in all this. You clasped your hands together in your lap and squeezed. 

“No, I’ve wronged ya twice now. Fer scarin’ the wits out of ya and for denying yer company without sayin’ anything. I’ve no right to assume, but…” He lifted his eyes to yours and held them. “But I’d like to make it right before I go. If yeh’d let me, I’d--” 

Before he could finish, Thorin’s commanding voice thundered in from the other room, “We’re heading out to meet this ‘master’. Dwalin, I want-- where has he gone to? Dwalin!” Your ears picked up some male murmurings shortly after, likely Balin or Bofur telling him to give you two a few more minutes.  

You looked towards the doorway to the other room with profound panic and sadness. Time wasn't just ticking by now, it was flying. 

Dwalin’s voice was just above a whisper before strengthening with resolve, “Listen, there’s somethin’ ye should know.”

You swallowed and nodded. Waiting on words you were desperate to hear while bracing yourself for words that could very well break your heart.  

But when he hesitated, looking like he couldn’t quite form the sentence, you decided to be the one to act first before he could change his mind or outright leave. Even if he didn't feel the same anymore, you wanted him to know where you stood. 

“How about I go first? There’s something I need you to know, too.” Heart pounding like a hammer, you dared to meet his eyes, surprised to see a mirrored look of desperation in them which he quickly masked by keeping his expression calm, then crossing his arms. This was Dwalin's way of letting you know he was listening. 

“First, I’ll start by giving you this.”

You dove your hand into your pocket to feel around what you were searching for and leaned your closed fist forward, bobbing it in front of him until he held out his hand and dropped the item into his palm.

His soft blue eyes widened as he stared at the object in disbelief, holding it close as if it were sacred while you spoke, “I missed you, Dwalin. Your smile, your scent, your protection, being under your care, and fixing you up when you were hurt. I just missed _you_. And when you wouldn’t talk to me I couldn’t help but notice how empty my world became without you in it. I’ve grown rather fond of you and I didn't want you to leave without knowing that.”

Dwalin blushed up to his ears at that confession and looked from you to the gift with glossy eyes. He smiled fondly at it, “Ye made this.”

“Yeah,” you muttered pitifully. You were quite proud of it at the time, especially the swirls and patterns of the wiring, but having him inspect it so closely now, he was likely to see all of the flaws. There was no way your meager skills would be up to dwarven standards, but you had hoped that the gesture would be enough to show him that you cared. Then again you realized that without you directly telling him, Dwalin would have never known what you felt about him or his past advances. The look of sheer happiness and relief on his face now touched you in a way you didn’t expect it to.

“You’ll need it more than I will. May it keep you safe until your return to me,” you finished.

His eyes flashed as they jumped up to implore yours. You had given him the little amethyst that had found its way into your boot and Balin had helped you turn it into a necklace after he learned of its existence as you both tried to think of a gift to give to Dwalin in return. He explained to you that jewelry was one of the more serious courting gifts you could offer your person of interest, and only ever given as means to demonstrate that interest. 

 _“Do not give Dwalin this necklace unless you are absolutely certain you want him for your own. Dwarrows can only love once, and I don’t want you to go changin’ yer mind and breakin’ his heart, you understand?”_ Balin told you as he watched and guided you on how to reconstruct the gem into something wearable. He didn’t need to tell you twice. The more you worked on it, the more sure you became, and the deeper your feelings went. Balin took that as a sign of good luck and gave you his blessing.

“ _Will_ you come back to me? I’d very much like to see you again and I still need someone to train me on how to use my dagger.”

Dwalin inhaled a breath and slowly rose to his feet, closing the small distance between you. “Do you know what it is yer offerin’ me. The significance of what giving a dwarrow jewelry is?”

You had to look up to observe his face. He seemed much more massive towering over you like this than when you both were standing. “Yes. I’m just hoping you’ll accept it.”

Dwalin blushed deeper and a twitch of a grin tugged his lips until it broke through into a delighted smile. 

“Aye. Y/N, I’ve taken quite a likin’ to ya. More than a liking… ah, I’m not very good with words, so I’m going to come right out and say what's been on my mind for so long. I accept your gift. Will you accept my proposal for courtship in exchange?” In his free hand, he offered you a silver fragment. At first you weren’t sure what you were looking at, but then you realized that it was a bead. A courting bead, based on what Balin was preparing you for if all went accordingly. 

You nodded raptly, accepting the bead and trying to fend off the tears pricking the corners of your eyes at the happiness you felt welling up in you, “Yes, I will.”

After putting on the necklace you made him, Dwalin knelt before you and held your hand tenderly in his own. He brought your knuckles up to his lips to brush a tickling kiss there before bringing them to rest at his bowed forehead. 

He spoke to you in his native tongue first, his tone reverent and adoring. It sounded like he was making an oath or a vow and was moving enough as it was, but when he translated the words to you, your heart was full to bursting. Dwalin held on to the hand he still had clutched in his own and he grazed the back of his fingers of his free hand along your cheek, “I pledge my life for yers should danger be present, my plate for yers should food be scarce, and my strength for yers should hope be lost. If ye will have me, I am yers.”

“Dwalin…” you sighed, sifting your fingers through his beard to cup his face. He shuddered beneath your touch and gripped you tighter. “And I am yours.”

At that, Dwalin let out a quiet, relieved sound and drew you into a strong embrace that resulted in you to stand up with him. 

“I’m so sorry I pushed ye away. I was worried I scared ye off,” he admitted under his breath. “I didn’t know if ye would even want teh say goodbye much less court.”

“The only thing that scared me was the thought of letting you go forever with never getting another chance to tell you how much you mean to me. I was never afraid of you, Dwalin. I know you're the last person who would do me harm.”

Dwalin kept you in his arms but leaned back so he could see your face, “I would protect you with everything I have, bodyguard duty or no. Always remember that.”

“I know,” you smiled. He thumbed away a rogue tear that was sliding down your cheek.

As you stared at each other, there came an impending urgency from your limited time together as you felt a heat growing and swirling between you. Whatever ancient dwarven power was in Dwalin’s declaration when he pledged himself to you had officially bound you together the moment you accepted him. And there was one thing left to do to seal it. You looked into each other's eyes in both invitation as well as silent agreement. And in a blinding rush, you attacked each other in a rush of lips, tongue and teeth. 

Everything about kissing Dwalin was exactly how you expected: rough, fierce, yet surprisingly tender all at once. He didn’t hold back the passion he was feeling in the slightest, and you handled his eagerness with the utmost pleasure and ease. 

“Och, Y/N, I will take such good care of ya,” he rumbled with masculine delight against your lips. “My lass.”

“My dwarf,” you sighed in response.

With a rush of  strength you didn’t expect him to have, but _very_ much approved of, he hoisted you up against the wall and held you in place with the power of his arms and lowered you until you were seated on a small stool, giving him an advantage in your slight height difference so that he now towered over you. Your legs opened on their own to accommodate his imposing size when he leaned into you as you curled them around his broad back to lock him in place.

He hummed in approval, wrapping his arms around you in a similar possessive hold and massaged your lips apart with his tongue. He pulled back a moment and chuckled, “Apologies… I got a bit excited. Several months all came rushin' in at once.”

You reigned in back in with your legs. “Not complaining,” you licked his lips to encourage him to dive in for more and he did not disappoint.

"Can I touch your beard?" you gasped at the scratchy open-mouthed kisses he was trailing down your neck. You felt his body shiver.

"L-lass, that's mighty intimate. I'm already hot as fire by kissin' ya; if you touch me there, I won't be able to control m'self... och, Durin help me. Aye, do it." Dwalin couldn't help but yield at the pleading look in your eyes, despite knowing what it would ultimately do to him. But if he had to go face off his kin and the town of Man with a raging ax in his trousers, then he would do it with pride. He knew he had nothing to be ashamed of in that regard. 

Biting your lip to fight back a smile, your reached your hands out and sifted them through the softness. That alone had Dwalin panting with his eyes rolling back but when you gripped him by his tufts back to your lips, he moaned loudly and surged into you. 

"Tighter," he growled into your lips. You obliged and were rewarded with him rutting against you with both his body and his tongue. His trembling hands were trying to remain in respectable places, but the more your hands and fingers stroked his facial hair, the less respectable they became. You gasped and moaned as he grabbed onto you. "Tried to warn ya," he groaned between kisses, sifting his own hands into your hair. "Is it-is it too much? Too fast?"

"No," you moaned. "Not enough," you grinded back into him.

"Oh, Y/N..." 

While passion and mating heat flared in the air around you both, you knew nothing more would happen beyond this. There wasn’t enough time. This was also made present when you heard the arrival of one of the Company come looking for Dwalin, only to make a squeal of surprise and a hasty retreat in excusing themselves and vacating the premises to leave you to your private moment. You overheard someone frantically warning the others not to go in there. 

Neither of you even bothered to look up. 

"Y/N," Dwalin moaned into your neck and then nipped gently at your bottom lip. "I want more than courtship. Marry me."

You froze and Dwalin stilled. Pulling away from your lips with a soft pop. You worried he might be sporting a hurt look in his eyes when you didn’t answer right away, but all you saw was love and adoration thrown into the blue lust-filled stare. You didn’t know how you knew this, but through wordless communication you’d only ever witnessed him sharing with Thorin and his brother, in your soul, you knew there was no pressure to answer right now. Dwalin just wanted his intentions clear to you; letting his heart speak through him. 

His eyes fell down to your mouth.

“Give me those lips.”

You smirked. “Two back-to-back demands? Well, aren’t you greedy.”

He chuckled deeply and twirled some of your hair between his fingers, “Only fer you. Always fer you.”

A pointed throat clearing from Balin broke you both apart. “We’re headin’ out, laddie. Best wrap up now.”

Dwalin barked something over his shoulder and then refocused on you.

“I have to go,” he whispered sadly, after planting several more kisses on your lips. “But I’ll come back for ya and put a proper dwarven braid in yer beautiful hair with my bead.”

Your arms tightened around him. You wanted to cry; hopelessly plead with him to stay, beg him not to go. But you didn’t want that to be the last thing he remembered of you before he left to return home and you knew this quest was very important for him and his people. The heated kiss you shared was good enough for the both of you. 

“I know you will. And I’ll be waiting for you.”

You both shared a look before he pulled you in for another quick kiss, then he rested his forehead tenderly against yours. Dwalin’s name was called from the other room, signaling the Company was heading out with or without him. 

Dwalin planted a lingering kiss on the back of your hand, then forced himself away, looking back only once. 

“I love you,” he said. 

 

* * *

 

Gods, that all seemed forever ago now.

A month later of rebuilding Dale -- with no word from anyone -- proved to be very strenuous work. Being one of very few healers on hand proved even more strenuous still. A few Mirkwood elves had stayed behind to assist for the first week, which was a tremendous help, but they soon left for Mirkwood with their injured and dead and you were up to your ears in wounded men, women, and children who all required care from the aftermath of the battle.

Bard was avid in expressing how blessed they were to have a healer of your stature with them during this time. They needed all the help they could get and you welcomed the helping hands of his children, who took an instant liking to you the moment you arrived with the dwarves. The oldest daughter, Sigrid, was squeamish at the sight of blood but was still determined to help so you tasked her with checking on the wounded by making sure they had water, food, and proper bedside manner while the youngest, Tilda, was your righthand lady. 

You taught her how to stitch up a wound, similar to stitching up a tear in fabric, and instructed her eager mind how to properly dress and clean them. Bain primarily helped his father but leant out a helping hand whenever needed. They were such good kids. You had to keep yourself going in order to fend off the thought of what your future kids might be like. Or whether or not “he” would want any.

You were so busy running around playing doctor and nurse that mornings slipped into night in the blink of an eye and if it weren’t for your little helpers, you would forget to eat. On more than one occasion, Bard had to physically force you to stop working just to sit you down to tend to yourself and even went so far as to invite you into his home until you were ready to leave. 

Taking refuge in Bard’s home after an especially tiring day, you sagged your mentally exhausted body into a chair to ponder over the remaining medical rations you had left until more arrived. 

“Why are you pushing yourself so hard, Y/N?” Bard asked from behind, startling you awake from a nap you didn’t realize you had dozed into. He pulled up a chair and sat beside you to pour some water and offered you a loaf of bread and butter. 

It was made that morning and had lost its freshness, however, you greedily scarfed everything down and reveled in its exquisite flavor, not realizing just how hungry you were until the first bite passed your lips. “People need tending to, wounds need to be changed, potions need to be concocted to level the pain,” you said in between bites. “There’s much to do. And we’re running out of supplies. I’m trying to think of the best way to conserve them.”

Bard sat back to watch you with a bemused expression, watching you eat the whole loaf and down the entire pitcher of water. 

“You aren’t our only healer, you know,” he cocked a brow. “Ronald and Evelyn can make due on their own every once in a while so there’s no need to work yourself into the ground and… Y/N?”

“Oh my, I-I’m sorry! I don’t know where this came from,” you laughed as you quickly wiped away the endless stream of tears that came out of nowhere land. As soon as one was wiped away, another only took its place. Bard said nothing, but leaned over and placed a reassuring hand on your knee and upon contact all hell broke loose at the touch of affection he offered. He retracted his hand and came over to draw you into a warm hug. 

“I’m so embarrassed,” you sobbed into his chest, unable to calm yourself. 

“Don’t be, crying is hardly a shameful act.”

“I just miss him so much,” you blurted out. “I miss him so desperately I can’t stand it! I haven’t heard from anyone after the dragon or the battle; all I can do is wait here like he said. That’s why I have to keep busy because if I stop… then all I can see is him lying there… what if he’s--”

You couldn’t even finish that horrible thought. 

“Shh, shh, it’s all right,” Bard cooed into your hair. The children were sleeping, you knew, so you tried to keep quiet. Eventually, your sobbing had ceased and you tore yourself out of Bard’s grasp to wipe your wet, puffy face with the hem of your sleeves.  

“I’m sorry,” you sniffed. 

Based on Bard’s expression, you knew that an apology wasn’t necessary, but you couldn’t help yourself. He waited patiently for you to collect yourself and handed you a handkerchief that you graciously accepted to dab at your eyes. 

“May I ask who this ‘him’ is?” he asked gently. 

“Dwalin.”

Bard’s eyebrows furrowed then rose in surprise. “A dwarf? Which one was he, the fair-haired one?”

“No, Dwalin is the one with all the tattoos, big muscles, bald head; bit of a temper.”

“Ah,” Bard nodded and chuckled at the memory of him. “Yes, I remember him. Well, he’s quite… eh… manly?” he offered. 

You could tell he was attempting to placate your “questionable attraction” to the burly, scarred, gruff warrior dwarf, but to one who held little to no contempt for the race, Bard couldn’t really find the right words to describe Dwalin in a more agreeable, positive light other than “manly”.

You laughed despite yourself, appreciating his good intention. “Yes, he’s very manly,” you teased. 

“Well, Laketown _is_ closeby. You could always visit the mountain and see for yourself.” 

“I tried. No one would let me pass. Before he left he said he’d come back for me, but I haven’t heard a word from him since Smaug or the battle.”

That much was true and it stung. You haven’t heard a peep from anybody since Smaug attacked, or after the battle of the five armies. As you weren’t adept at fighting, you only graced the battlefield after it was over to tend to the injured, but you were really searching for Dwalin. Or his body… But there wasn’t a trace of your band of dwarves anywhere to be found. 

You didn’t know which was worse: the not knowing or assuming that no news was good news. 

You only knew Thorin and his kin had reigned successful from Bard and some of the men who’d gone to fight, but other than that, there weren’t very many details of what was happening now since their focus was on their own dealings. In your everlasting hope you had half-expected to see Dwalin come for you _some_ time after reclaiming his home, but the only visitors you received were crows. Lots and lots of crows. 

Unsure of their strange presence, you tried to shoo them away, but they would only stare at you and caw defiantly. Bain informed you that they were Erebor’s birds and that they come around frequently; more so now since the dwarves had returned. 

They grew to be a constantly grim reminder of the one you were waiting for. And as each day passed your concern at the silence grew more severe.

Bard considered your words. “Perhaps I can assist you with that. But for now, get some rest. I don’t want an angry dwarf setting a bounty on my head if word gets out on how overworked you are.” 

It was hard to argue any further with Bard on this because when he it came down to it, you were exhausted. But if left to your thoughts, you’d only wonder for the thousandth time if you should have accepted Dwalin’s proposal when he asked. After all, it was said in the heat of the moment and you both knew it was very fast, especially since it was proposed within minutes of entering a courtship and you didn’t want to act hastily. 

Absence certainly proved to make your heart grow fonder, though... and in Dwalin’s absence, your love blossomed for him until it was the only air you breathed. You had your answer ready for him. You just prayed he was still alive so you could give it to him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Bard had given you a leave of your work for the week. Without your healer duties, you didn’t know what to do with your time, so you decided to get better acquainted with the town and its people. It was your home now, after all. Even if it didn’t feel like it. 

“Miss Y/N!” came Tilda’s voice when she softly knocked on your door. “Are you awake?”

You just finished getting dressed and was in the process of brushing your hair. It was amazing what a bath and clean change of clothes could do for the soul. And sleep. Three days of relatively uninterrupted, nearly tearless sleep. A few nights of rest didn’t do much to lighten the load of your work you’d be returning to even after you had tutored your young, willing pupils in the field of medicine. 

“Yes, I’m awake!” you answered back. 

You noticed an uncertain tone in her voice as she added, “There’s someone here to see you.” 

Your first thought immediately landed on Dwalin. Heart leaping up into your throat like the lovesick fool you were, you hurriedly ensured that you were as presentable as could be and rushed to the door to fling it open. Tilda staggered backwards with a startled “Eep!” by your urgency. With eager, hopeful eyes, you looked around to spot the visitor and they widened in shock. His back was turned to you, but you’d know that dwarf anywhere. 

“Bofur?”

He turned to you from the window he was looking out of and offered a large, kind smile, “At your service!”

He sauntered in front of you and stopped with a theatrical bow. When he righted himself, you saw that he was happily munching away on something or other; crumbs were scattered amidst his loopy mustache and dropped to the floor as he chewed. You giggled in delight, pleased to see this familiar face of your friend after such a long time apart. 

“It’s so nice to see you!” You quickly scooped him into a tight hug before you noticed Bard, Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda watching from the table with amused expressions. And curiously bittersweet ones, probably as they reminisced on the unsavory repercussions the dwarves had bestowed upon them.  

“Good morning!” you greeted them before turning back to the dwarves in the room. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Well, I missed ya, of course! I’d have come sooner if my services weren’t required in Erebor.” Bofur pouted, “However, I must say that I am technically here on official orders.”

You nodded, assuming Bofur’s travels were an order from Thorin as a means to get in touch with Bard more so than visiting you. You looked over to where he _was_ standing, only to find that Bard and his family had gone and left you to yourselves.

“This is for you,” Bofur handed you an envelope, presenting it in both hands. 

You quirked a perplexed eyebrow, “What is this? A royal summons?”

That seemed like a joke, especially as it wasn’t sealed or bearing any writing on the front. But Bofur only smiles -- almost too pleased with himself -- as he reads your expression and you can clearly read the expression on his face, too. "You'll see." It says. "Trust me."

With care, confusion, worry, and no absence of nerves as to what Thorin could possibly want to write you about, you tore open the letter and read the first few lines of his rather impressive penmanship. Thorin certainly was skilled in ways with the quill-- 

 _Not a day has gone by without you in mind or in heart._ The first line read. 

Your heart flipped and you looked to Bofur full of hope, who watched on with a sweet smile on his face. Then playfully frowned and ushered you to keep reading with a few waves of his hand.

 _Have you been well? Are you taking care of yourself? I’ve been a mess without seeing this for myself but know that the instant the war was over, I wanted nothing more than to rush to your side immediately. However, my presence has been needed beside my king, who had been dancing with death more often than I can bear. I’ve been watching over him night and day to ensure his wellness and health. As captain of his personal guard, I have to uphold my duty above my selfish desires, no matter how strongly I yearn for you. My heart is so torn... perhaps because you carry a part of me with you always._  

_I am pleased to say that Thorin, Kili, and Fili are all alive and well as is the rest of the Company. Thorin will need a cane, as his foot has been irreparably injured, but other than that, he is well and his strength is rapidly returning, so I thank Mahal for that!_

_I know you have your hands full tending to Laketown's wounded, but I worried when I didn’t hear of you, so I had sent over some eyes on my behalf to quell my fears of your well being. Our crows have kept watch and have been reporting back to me as the dependable creatures they are, so I was relieved to learn you were safe. However, I must confess that they had confided to me of your nightly weeping... I pray your tears are not because of me, but I cannot help but fear that they are. It’s been much too long since we’ve spoken, so I thought to write in hopes to ease you of any harbored sadness or pain._

_I miss you, my Y/N; my treasure, my One. I ache to hold you again -- to kiss you silly and, as improper as it is, take you to my bed. I haven't removed your wee amethyst from around my neck since the day you offered it to me and every time I look at it, I am filled with strength and pride._

_We will not be apart for too much longer, my treasure. Thorin is well enough to start barking orders for me to see you, so it’s only a matter of time before I’ll be heading your way -- I apologize you have to wait so long in silence, but know that it has been an eternity for me and my heart is by far the sorest thing I can feel from all the blows I've taken from my foes._

_Have you given thought to what we last discussed? I admit I haven’t once stopped thinking about it. I will abide your answer no matter what it may be, but know that as long as I have you as my own and by my side, I shall be content, happy, and ever blessed._

_Your dwarrow,_

_D._

You read the letter twice. Three times. Biting your lip to stifle the tears welling up at his kind words. 

“Oh, Dwalin,” you choked back a sob and looked to Bofur. “He wrote this?” For someone who wasn't exactly apt for social interaction, Dwalin's thoughts upon paper were a staggering opposite to any conversation you had with him. It seemed he was ever full of surprises.  

The jovial dwarf nodded.

“Whoda thought Dwalin was such a sap?” Bofur chimed good naturedly. 

You narrowed your eyes in playful suspicion, “You read my letter?”

He shook his head rapidly and held his hands up in defense. “No, no, no! I just watched Dwalin write it. He asked me fer help to ‘find the right words’ as he put it, but he didn’t need me, really. I never dreamed I’d see the day when that lug would become so besotted by a lass. Sighin’ to himself, starin’ out at the sky, twirlin’ his wee pendant; like a livin’ page out of a poet’s journal, he is!”

That warmed your heart to hear. You could imagine Dwalin doing all those things Bofur described so clearly, for you had been doing them yourself as you waited for his return. 

“Wait, what about this was ‘orders’, though?” You flashed the letter at him and he only smiled wider and rocked on his heels. Frowning, you reread the letter, turned it over, checked for additional pages in the envelope and everything else but couldn’t understand what more there was to it. 

“Bofur?” you asked warily. 

From behind him, he pulled out an opened scroll and waved it open, “This here was for Bard, from Thorin. As he’s the new leader of Dale, he’s technically your employer.”

Your eyes widened. You didn’t know that. Why didn’t Bard say anything? 

Bofur nodded and flipped the parchment around so he could read it. “And according to his signature here, yer services are no longer needed in Dale.”

You paled, hoping you didn’t do something to wrong Bard or the town somehow, but nothing you came up with made any sense. “What? Why?!”

“Because Thorin has employed you as Erebor’s honorary healer.”

Oh. 

You had to sit down. You found a chair somehow, your head swimming with all these sudden changes. What about Dwalin? Did this mean you could finally see each other? It sure better be!

“And…” Bofur drawled ominously, his face now going blank. 

Your heart leapt up to your throat. There’s _more_ _?_   It was hard to tell if this “and” came with good or bad news.

“And what?” you asked weakly. 

“And I’m still waitin’ fer your answer, lass.” Came a familiar deep voice from behind you. You jumped out of your seat in a shriek of surprise only to immediately barrel into the source.

Dwalin held fast with a chuckle, easily withstanding your assault hug and twirled you off the floor. In your peripherals, you saw Bofur disappearing into the next room to leave you and Dwalin to your reunion. 

Dwalin lowered you back to your feet and captured your face to deliver numerous starving kisses. “I missed ya, I missed ya so much,” he whispered over and over.  

“I missed you, too. For goodness sake, you had me sick with worry, you infuriating thing!” You smacked his shoulder before drawing him in for another fierce kiss, quieting him of whatever he was saying in response. 

His hands sifted into your hair to hold you close and when your hands curled into his tunic, your fingers found your necklace. You broke the kiss to smile fondly at it and took in his features. Dwalin had new scars added to the collection on his face, but all in all, he seemed to be in one piece. You looked him over and frowned wondering how many other injuries he sustained that you weren't able to tend to. Were any of the blows fatal? How close to death had he come?  

“I'm sorry, I wanted to surprise ya. Are ye mad at me?” he asked quietly, tilting your chin up to look at him. 

You weren’t, but just the same: “A whole month of not knowing whether or not you were dead or dying. A _month_ of no word from you or anyone.”

He stepped closer, pressing you into his hard body by your waist, looking up at you under his eyebrows. “How about I fix that by takin’ ye home with me? I promised to come back to ya and I will never break a promise to my lass. Are you ready to come home?”

Your heart pumped wildly in your chest. This was all you were waiting for: Dwalin returning safely to you, going home with him, and starting your lives together. You had your answer to his question fired and ready, at first you wanted to tease him a little. The jerk deserved it considering how long you were left to wait without a single word from anybody. But having him here with you now, finally in his arms, deflated any pent up frustration or anger you couldn’t find in yourself to cling to. 

Dwalin quickly put on the breaks to his former sentence and tacked on with a blush, “We don’t have to go to _my_ chambers, exactly. If ye don’t want. I made sure ya had yer own until you were ready to move forward. It's all prepared for ya. Bofur and I just need to pack yer things and we can be on our way."

He deflated a little as you continued cocking your brow at him, rethinking his plan as he assumed you thought he was -- once again -- moving way too fast. But you watched on in amusement as he babbled and stumbled through his words, absentmindedly twirling his long hair from over his shoulder between your fingers. 

“Well, sharing your chambers shouldn’t be a huge problem since we’re getting married, after all... this is me accepting your proposal, in case you’re wondering.”

Dwalin’s head shot up and his eyes lit up like fireworks. He shouted a cheer in Khuzdul before his lips landed on yours with renewed excitement, practically bouncing with joy. 

“We are!? Oh, Y/N! My Y/N… I will make you so happy! Wait ‘til you see our chambers! I made sure we had the best view. As soon as we get in, I want to plait your hair. Then we can starting planning. I still have obligations to fulfill, but I was thinking spring would be best for the ceremony. Do you need help packing? What about...”

As Dwalin started listing off all the things he wanted to do, you were taken aback from the mere sight of this level of glee since it was so unlike him, but you couldn’t help but laugh at his response. He evidently had put a lot of thought into this prior to your accepting. You chided him playfully, distracting him with kisses, adding a few comments of your own.

You heard the lilt of two giggling girls daring in and out from behind the doorway the family exited through.

“Mmm... Let’s have bairns immediately after the wedding, I want at least three,” he growled into your ear.

Your eyes widened and you blushed. It was cute how excited and ready he was with planning your future, but once again, he was going much too fast.

“Or,” your sultry voice cooed. “We could have fun practicing first? We've plenty of time, you eager oaf.”

Dwalin got the hint and smirked, “Oh, aye. I expect we’ll be doin’ lots of practicin’. The winters here are mighty cold, and what sort of husband would I be in not keeping my wife properly warmed?” He thumbed your lip with a darkened expression. 

"Agreed. I better start packing." Before you started away, you held Dwalin tightly in your arms. "I love you so much..." you sighed. Unlike before, you had all the time in the world now to just enjoy each other. And still you couldn't wait.

"I love you, too, lass."  

You caught sight of Bofur’s head peeking around the doorway, accompanied with Bard’s children and an amused Bard. 

“Y’know, ‘Bofur’ is a great name for a wee lad!” he called casually. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are there any pairings or chapters you'd all like to see most? I wanted to gauge specific interests of characters or scenarios you guys would like to see most as I go in-between projects. Requests, feedback, etc. are always welcome from sickly sweet to the raunchiest raunch. Also: I'm working on a separate story (still tied to the Hobbit universe) that I'm writing alongside this series. I'm looking forward to sharing it (soon, I hope)!
> 
> You guys rock. That is all.


	11. My Darling Lass (BilboxReader Ending)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You gain the nerve to approach your love to confess your heart and end up offering him a little more than comfort in his new condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: NSFW with primarily female on female action.
> 
> I’m not dead, I swear! I just have a lot of chapters I’m writing, so I apologize for the slowness in updates. Annnd I haven’t written a thing for any of you Bilbo/Reader fans out there, so I thought to make one for this series (in addition to some of the dwarves some of you have requested.) Sorry in advance, my fingers slipped.

“How’re you fairing, Bilbo?” you asked, handing over his bowl of supper before taking a seat beside him. 

He smiled weakly at you and half-heartedly shrugged a shoulder, tucking a rogue curly lock behind his ear that didn’t stay put even after the second attempt. 

“As good as can be expected, I suppose,” he replied with a sigh. You watched as he swirled the contents of his food around without any interest in consuming it. Knowing how important food was to Bilbo (and hobbits in general) you became a little worried at his lack of appetite. There was very little that could deter a hobbit from eating -- something both of you had in common. From what you surmised from after the altercation with Gandalf, Bilbo didn’t seem to be all too concerned with the new predicament but apparently it affected him more than he let on. 

You should have known... A feeling of guilt began to creep in.

Not knowing what to say, you awkwardly sipped from your spoon as he continued to stir his around. It wasn’t totally uncommon for Bilbo to withdraw into himself (especially after a heated spat with Thorin) so you understood when he needed space and figured he was being too polite to turn you away.  

“Would you like me to leave you alone?” you asked, breaking the thick quiet between you to give him the opening he might be looking for.

Bilbo lifted his head and aptly shook it, “I’d like it if you stayed. Sorry, I know I’m not much of a conversational companion at the moment, but your presence is a much welcomed comfort.”

“Then I’ll stay,” you smiled, feeling a surge of warmth. You continued to eat in silence while Bilbo picked around at his and the company indulged in conversations around camp trying to settle into some semblance of normality, though achieving anything but. Some of the dwarves who were able to overlook this temporary situation took up lively chatter as if nothing was amiss while others sulked in the secluded spots they selected.

Occasionally, though he would try to keep it to himself, Bilbo would let out a sigh. The concerned looks you threw his way whenever he did so eventually reduced in their frequency, and you knew better than to press Bilbo on what was troubling him. It was obvious. And if he wanted to share his thoughts with you, he would when he was ready. So, you opted for the companionable silence he granted while he took comfort in having you sit beside him. 

The desire to tell him how you felt wavered significantly from after you walked over and robbed you of any other topics you could impose in its stead. You didn’t know Bilbo was in a mood until you got there and decided that now probably wasn’t the best time to tell him that you had feelings for him after all. Pity… you’d hoped that giving your heart to him while he was a female would have made your intentions even more genuine somehow, but you didn’t stop to think if it would make it worse. 

Speaking of, you let your eyes wander over the expanse of his person to properly take the sight in, unaware of the fond smile you bore. His hair was the same short length as it has been and he still managed to fit his clothing, even though he was more feminine in structure now. His breasts were a small, perky bump under his vest and his hands and feet were shrunken to accommodate his gender’s size. His face wasn’t quite as hardened with tell-tale masculine features anymore since his cheeks were more rounded but they sported a charming, natural rosy glow that hadn’t been there before. His nose was cute as a button, his lashes full, and his lips took up that squeal-worthy pout that he tended to wear at times.  

He was still your Bilbo that you grew to know and love. And you not only appreciated his new form in its own beauty, but you were surprised at how much you adored it. As far as gender swapping goes, Bilbo's was the best outcome of the bunch -- and that was saying something to those who could still pull off being attractive as females even with their wild facial hair.  

A pair of brown eyes flicked to you from the side. “Ahem, I’d appreciate it if you stopped staring.”

Having been caught, you guiltily averted your gaze. You didn’t think you were ogling at him for as long as you had and you were suddenly very shy about the dirty and sweet thoughts that flooded your head while you compared and extolled the physical allure of Bilbo in both genders. How was it still possible for him to be so adorable? You wish you knew.

“I’m sorry, I was just admiring. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” Suddenly no longer having an appetite to finish the rest of your bowl, you set it down beside you and diverted your attention to the thick throng of trees in front of you and tried to think of what to do to keep yourself occupied.

“Admiring?” his higher pitched voice repeated incredulously. 

Hoping it would ease the awkwardness and give him some confidence you said, “Yeah. You make such a handsome hobbit, it’s only fitting that you’d make a beautiful female hobbit, too. I’m actually a bit jealous at that, by the way.”

“Jealous!” Bilbo scoffed before musing out loud, “You think I’m handsome?” His cheeks flushed and after a short round of flustering, he suddenly became very interested in his food; happily sipping away as he marinated in your compliment. You took his renewed appetite as a good sign and chose to press your luck a bit more in favor of lifting his mood.

“Yes,” you answered in a soft laugh. “I’ve always thought you were. You dress well, your hair is nice, and your eyes are--” You stopped when they shifted over to look at you in mystified expectancy. “Well, they’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you, you're much too kind. But they’re just a plain brown,” Bilbo replied dismissively after clearing his throat a couple times, though it was accompanied with a pleased-as-punch smile. You grinned in return, wanting to shower him with more compliments to defend your opinion.

“There’s nothing plain about you, Bilbo. You have a special charm in the manner you talk and act and the way your mind works is brilliant -- I love it whenever you tell me what’s churning around inside of it. I always look forward to our talks and being in your company. You may be a bit physically different now, but nowhere near plain.”

His smile fell at that, revealing that he was actually bothered by the gender change after all and you felt a pang in your chest. But then again, that was understandable. As interesting a thought as suddenly waking up and being a man would be, all it ever would be is a hypothetical thought. You didn’t know how you’d truly manage with a sudden gender change if it actually happened. Especially if you were all alone in it… at least the new perspective had been done in a group setting. 

But they were still men on the inside and men had a different way of viewing things, and responding to them, than women did and as close as you and Bilbo were, he was no exception.

"You think so? I'm still a bit jarred about it all, to be honest. And for Gandalf, of all people, to have gone and done this is shocking to me. When I bolted out of my door on this grand adventure... I have to say, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind." 

Bilbo's tone and humorless laugh, although still bitter, suggested he was trying to make light of the situation.

“If it’s any consolation,” you started carefully, monitoring his reaction to alert you on whether you should drop the subject. When he didn’t protest, you continued, “you don’t really look all that different like everyone else does. Just more feminine in the face at first glance -- but still quite attractive," you winked. 

He rolled his lips in and scratched the back of his head but grinned and nodded, “I suppose it could be worse. Have you seen Dwalin? He’s beside himself about about losing his beard.”

You stifled a snort, recalling how salty Dwalin still was about it despite now sporting an entire head of thick locks to make up for it, and Bilbo leaned in closer to whisper to you even though you both were well out of earshot, “Between you and me? I’m still upset at this unfortunate predicament but I say this is a lesson well-learned for the lot of us.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I think I can speak for everyone when I say that we hadn’t the foggiest how difficult it was being female. I don’t how you can stand it between the temperature changing, the cravings, the flurry of intense emotions, the sensitivity to the sun, the way you have to go to the bathroom, how, uh, how men must speak to you on principle… my word, you make it look so effortless! You truly are a marvel and I apologize if I have ever put you out in some way. I was thinking about last night in particular and in my mind I thought I was coming off as caring, but I may have ended up just being an ass instead...”

You stared back at him stunned. Of all the things he could have said, you weren’t expecting this. You haven’t run into any men during your travels today for them to garner a firsthand experience on how women are conventionally spoken to, but now that Bilbo mentioned it, they all had been speaking to you -- and each other -- quite differently now. As if they finally understand the frustrating ridiculousness you were subject to these months. Almost makes you wonder if Gandalf maybe did this on purpose. 

“I consider you a very dear friend to me, Y/N. It’s no secret whom I’m closest to out of everyone here and we've spent so much time together that I never stopped to think that I had ever treated you unfairly due to your sex. Especially when it came to your training. That was well beyond my personal intentions, forgive me."

As if he couldn't warm your heart any more than he already had just by being himself, he had to go and up the stakes. Both of you have bonded amiably from the start. You had a common issue in that you both were seen as burdens and unfit to be there, so you stuck by each other to offer comfort and reassurance in times of struggle. Whenever Thorin would use his narrow minded pigheadedness to break either of you down, Bilbo and yourself would work you own magic in building each other back up. Bilbo was so much stronger than he thought, but you didn't know how you would have managed if it wasn't for him. You didn't know what Thorin saw, but if anyone just took a chance to let Bilbo open up in his own way, they'd find that he was a treasure in and of himself. He'd told you many secrets that he hadn't even told folks back at the Shire and you in turn shared some of yours. So, even if others didn't see all he could be, it was nice having something out there that was just... yours.

And even though there were truth to his words, it didn't really bother you because he wasn't doing it overtly on purpose, or because he saw you as the "weaker sex". Now that you thought about it, he was probably behaving that way to protect you.

"Bilbo, look--"

He seemed latched on to some idea taking charge in his head and kept going, "I thought we were always speaking eye to eye with one another, and now… that’s even farther from the truth than ever, quite literally. I’m as small as I am a fool. I'm sorry, Y/N. You deserve better than that from me.”

“No damage done, Bilbo, please don’t beat yourself up over that.”

He smiled an unconvincing thanks and you pursed your lips into a thin line. “Does it bother you, though, the height difference between us? I know the dwarves are always going on about it, but you never said anything about disliking your own height -- it certainly never bothered me. And you’re the same size as you were before, if that means anything,” you pointed out, hoping your worry was well masked. Bilbo jumped in his seat and his stutterings of protest were a cause of relief.

“Oh! Not at all! To be honest, I quite prefer…” He paused and bit his lip and shyly turned his head, gripping his knees with his now adorably feminine hands. 

“Quite prefer?” you pressed hopefully.

“You may think less of me… it is quite the inappropriate confession I never divulged to you or anyone, really. Certainly not after asking for forgiveness,” Bilbo ventured in return. A part of you knew he wanted to tell you, but he was worried about what you would think of him when really you were growing more and more curious at what dirty little secret was hiding away in your sweet little hobbit’s head.

“I don’t fault you for anything, Bilbo. Besides, you already know most of my secrets, so I’m the last person to judge. All is forgiven, so spill it.”

To supplement the sentiment, you smiled reassuringly and settled a comforting hand on his shoulder. He returned your affection with a bashful smile and a nod. It wasn’t the first time you both spoke openly about inappropriate topics, even though you had to skirt around your own attraction to the guy when discussing your desires, but since Bilbo was determined to be a gentleman, you both refrained from confessing your more raunchier fetishes during such conversations. You took comfort in the fact that Bilbo felt at ease enough with you to speak about such taboo things. And given what you’ve learned about him: Bilbo was actually fairly rambunctious in his youth. He had experimented in both male and female lovers, but had taken no romantic interests with either any further than play. Hobbits, you came to understand, were highly curious and highly sexual creatures. Which made sense, given the large families, but also struck you as endearingly odd given how well-mannered they were. Him in particular.

You were surprised _that_ Bilbo Baggins and the one you were sitting next to were the exact same person yet so different from each other -- excluding the gender change, of course.

“All right, then. Now, don’t laugh, but I have always fancied the thought of being commandeered and dominated by a lover larger than myself. Feeling their heavy weight sinking on top of me, knowing that I could be easily manipulated against a wall or held completely at their mercy while indulging in our pleasures… oh, it thrills me to my core!”

Heat sizzled inside of you and flashed behind your eyes. That was a very arousing image, indeed. “So, you’ve never fooled around with anyone other than hobbits?”

Bilbo gave you a peculiar smile and shook his head, “You know from my stories how wild I was in my youth. But since I continued to live in Bag End, I didn’t have much chance for exploring even when Man ventured through the Shire. Or when an opportunity presented itself, I felt no inclination to act on it so I assumed I had just grown out of the idea. It was only after I grew older that I realized why I remained a content bachelor even after receiving courting proposals… I just never saw myself settling down with someone within my own race. I’m far attracted to another, you see,” he finished more peculiarly still.

It was enough so that you had the high hope that he was maybe trying to tell you something. And if that something was the same something that you wished to tell him, then that would just be dandy, wouldn’t it? You didn’t wish to assume, however, and decided to play coy first and see if he would grant you the answers you sought:

“Huh. Given your exotic interests, it makes sense that your heart would steer you towards Elves. Or humans…”

Bilbo didn’t betray a hint of which race he preferred and you tried to think of another nonchalant way of asking him or if you should just come out with it yourself. 

But then, “Yes, well, I know it’s rather unorthodox to pair a hobbit with either, but I wouldn’t care about the looks we’d get. It’s none of anyone else’s business who we court or bed but our own, after all! There is a certain beauty to opposites coming together. You know…” He put down his bowl and gave you his full attention, suddenly serious. And nervous. “You said that you’re jealous of my appearance -- surprising as _that_ was to learn -- but I hope you see that you are by far more beautiful than any of us here. And if I ever had the luck or honor of being with you… I could die of bliss.” 

Bilbo reached an unsure hand up to cup your face, gazed into your eyes with cheeks the color of roses and it didn’t go unnoticed by you that he looked from you to your lips -- twice. 

When your eyes widened in surprise, Bilbo casually composed himself with another throat clearing and snatched his hand back to fiddle with his jacket. His head was downcast, but he gazed up at you inquisitively from beneath full lashes and rolled his lips nervously, unsure of your thoughts and how much joy that gave you to hear.

You could easily picture yourself inside of his fantasy: being taken to Bilbo’s home, hoisting him up into your arms and slamming him against a wall as you rubbed your body against his while you kissed the life out of each other. Hell, you’d imagined in a dozen times over already but knowing he hinted at being interested at least in that aspect was just too much not to jump on. You wet your lips in anticipation and slid a little closer to him. 

“Is this--you wouldn’t happen to be offering me an invitation, would you?” you asked with a sheepish smile, tentatively placing your fingertips on the outside of his thighs to test your boundaries. 

Your bold move seemed to summon Bilbo’s own courage; he welcomed your touch by placing his hands warmly on top of yours. And, still blushing quite deeply, flirted back, “Are you accepting, per chance?”

Taking the hint, you smiled and leaned forward. Bilbo followed your example until you met halfway and tilted your head finally pressing your lips against his own for the first time. Bilbo shuddered against you and responded in earnest. His small, soft hands shot up to take hold of your face as he pressed a more firm, urgent kiss upon your lips and letting out a little pleasured, content hum in the process. The kiss may have started out as an innocent exploration, but it didn’t stay that way. Your mouths opened and your angled heads kept switching sides for better access; both of you holding your breath for as long as you could to make the moment last as your kisses turned desperate.

Now you were finally getting a taste of that more adventurous Bilbo that he told you so much about these past months. And you liked that it was you who was bringing this saucy version out of him.

When you both finally parted for a gulp of air, Bilbo’s hands were still cradling your warming cheeks. Both of your hearts pounded away like drums and you were smiling at each other like goofs. 

“Well, then,” Bilbo sighed happily. 

“I’ve wanted to do that since forever,” you giggled. 

His smile grew even wider, “Really? Me too! My, that’s certainly flattering--wait.” Something seemed to add up and register behind his narrowed brown eyes and then his gazed implored your own, “Th-then last night…” he implied heavily, trying to piece together any clues he might have missed. “Um, surely you wouldn’t happen to have been speaking about _me?_ ”

You gave him an incredulous look. “I’m honestly surprised the kiss didn't give it away already. Did you not see me looking at you when asked who it was I preferred?”

That had Bilbo positively beaming; so hard he practically radiated with light and it was actually a very breathtaking sight. Excitedly, he grasped your hands in his own as he practically hopped with joy in his seat. “Oh, Y/N, I had hoped but I didn’t fathom it to be true! I've been so attracted to you... I was worried you preferred more--well, more _gruff_ -type men which we know I am not, but still I thought that I may have still stand a chance at gaining your favor. And then with the whole spell miscast... I was in pretty low spirits about it all."

This was definitely a positive change of pace! Bilbo was always so cordial and friendly that it was hard for you to discern flirting or mutual interest aside from platonic courtesy. This conversation was paving the way for the discussion you intended to have in the first place, but you wanted to make absolutely sure.

"Why?" you asked, needing him to say it. You've longed for him to say such words to you without your own confessions leading him into it and you were hanging on every word.

"I’ve taken such a fancy to you since shortly after the moment we met. You are the full embodiment of beauty in my eyes and I just became so--so _enraptured!_ ” Bilbo drew both of your hands in and squeezed. “I truly believe you were the one I was waiting for all this time. You have stirred my slumbering soul and stolen my dormant virtue from me before I had any say, you vixen.”

That made you giggle in delight, “I guess they should have appointed me as the burglar then. You apparently are no good at all.”

Bilbo huffed indignantly but cracked a smile despite the jest, “Well, I assure you I’d make an exceptionally better lover than a burglar.”

“Kissing me the way you did? Somehow I’m not surprised.” 

Bilbo licked his lips as he eyed yours. “May I--may I do it again?” 

Wordlessly, you leaned in for a second kiss which resulted in being much more heated than the first -- you hadn't meant it to, it just sort of happened, especially with Bilbo leading the way. This time your mouths opened wider and hungrier in your building lust. Your felt the tip of Bilbo’s tongue slide out along your bottom lip, asking for permission and you answered him with a flick of your own.  

A feminine groan escaped his mouth and into yours as his tongue slicked inside -- quite skillfully, you noted. You drew your fingers into his soft sandy curls to cup the back of his head, tugging his locks ever so slightly. Bilbo gasped and you took the opportunity to invade his mouth with your tongue, tasting him thoroughly.

As much as you enjoyed how the world narrowed down to just the two of you, suddenly you remembered that that wasn’t exactly the case. Bilbo let out a noise of frustration when you pulled away from him.

“The company,” you chuckled with an incline of your head. 

"What about them?" he murmured into your neck as he planted his affections there.

Your skin tingled under his touch and your heart thumped wildly at his growing boldness. The sounds you made in result seemed to make him grow bolder still since he didn’t stop, "They'll see! You don't want to blemish your gentlemanly reputation, do you?"

“Phooey on them,” Bilbo bent in for another claim on your lips but you held him back by his shoulders with a smirk, taking a quick peek to see if anyone happened to catch any of your tongue-in-throat action or any other touching that followed but it didn’t appear so.

“I feel compelled to offer you a confession of my own, given how you shared a couple of yours,” you declared softly, slipping your hands from his shoulders.

Catching the tone in your voice, Bilbo's flirtatious behavior stopped immediately and he sat up straight. Though he looked concerned, he tilted his head curiously, inviting you to go on.

“Before we go any further with this,” -- you gestured in between you -- “I just wanted to get this out in the open so there’s no misunderstanding: I like you, a lot. Since last night, I’ve been meaning to come clean but I didn’t want everyone in the company teasing so I intended to ask you today but given how upset you were… I didn’t feel I could.”

Bilbo swallowed, a cross between worry and hope appearing on his face, “Ask me what?”

“Ask you if you wanted to date me -- court, I mean. I understand if you’re only physically attracted to me and would rather stay lovers than get romantically involved. I'm very attracted to you and I want to be together, but if you don’t want to court, would you have any interest in being bedmates--” 

Soft little fingers encompassed your lips and left almost as soon as they arrived. Your eyes did another quick sweep of the company, but privacy seemed to remain in your favor.

“Such nonsense. Haven’t you listened to a thing I told you? Do you remember what I said last night?"

Recalling back to what you assumed he was referring to, you responded, "You said I was a capable, intelligent, lovely, and strong young woman that any man would be lucky to have for their wife."

He nodded, pleased that you remembered. "There was more I wanted to say, before the conversation got out of hand and my pride became squandered by our dwarven fellows. Before we were interrupted, I was planning to request for some time alone with you so I could ask if... well, if you'd be interested in returning to Bag End with me after the quest. As my special one. But now that I know how you feel, to answer _your_ question--" Bilbo grabbed one of your hands in both of his. "I would love nothing more than to court you. And, if the offer is still withstanding, become... lovers?"

He spoke with such a tender confidence that erased any hint of nervousness from you moving forward. You pitched yourself forward and gathered your hobbit in your arms into a warm embrace. His face was squished between your breasts and you felt his happy chuckle more than you heard it. He adjusted his head and wrapped his arms around you in turn and you held onto each other to revel in your happiness. 

"Your heart is racing so fast," Bilbo noted sweetly. "Just like mine."

"Because we're finally together or because you have your face buried in my chest? Maybe this was your plan all long, you sneaky bugger..." you retort playfully. Bilbo instantly pulled away at that, but with a coy grin. 

"Have a care, would you?" he sniffed and theatrically turned his nose in the air. "After proclaiming such ardent sentiments, tainting them with perverse implications will only sully my otherwise respectable actions." He peeked an eye open to look at you and couldn't help but smile at your expression with a wink. "Though, as your official suitor, I will say they are quite delectable. I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to another tender embrace."

You shimmied your way in front of him so that you were out of view of the company and right in between his legs. He watched with wary curiosity as you gazed up at him innocently. “And what if I was in need of a tender embrace?” you purred.

“But I’m--I’ve got,” he pointed to his chest and you gave a careless shrug to display your indifference to it. “I don’t mind if you don't.”

You bit your lip before cupping both of his mounds in your hands before slinging them around his small torso and burying your face in between them. Bilbo let out a surprised squeak that melted into a sigh. This was actually quite comfortable!

“Oh my… this--this is such a foreign feeling.”

That sounded far from a complaint, but just to be sure, “Is touching you like this making you uncomfortable?”

He hesitated a moment but shook his head, positioning your hands back to his chest and arching his back so that his breasts better engulfed your hands. "I quite like it."

Granted leave to continue, you experimented by adding more pressure to your kneading and watched arousal flush Bilbo’s face. He took rapid, heaving breaths but eventually his eyes drifted shut as you went on. While your hands were busy you sat further up on your knees and languidly massaged his lips open. He hummed into your kiss before slipping his tongue inside.

Bilbo’s hands went to your shoulders first but then drifted over to the top of your chest. Just having his hands on you and his tongue dancing with yours caused you to moan and press closer to him. If you were a betting gal, you’d wager his nipples were hard enough to cut glass with the little sounds he was making. He’s told you how sexual hobbits were, but you didn’t think Bilbo would be so open and eager for your kisses and touches this quickly. Not that you were complaining.

As if he were reading your mind, “I’m sorry for my forwardness. I’m not usually one for taking such liberties this early on, but I’ve become so overjoyed I can’t seem to stop myself from craving your touch.”

You giggled, “It’s okay. I’m sort of in the same boat here. I’m finding it hard to stop, but I don’t want to.” 

Bilbo made an affirmative sound, “Don’t stop. Let’s indulge in each other; we’ve waited so long after all.”

You kissed a path up Bilbo’s slender neck and ended with a playful nip at his hobbit ear and back down his jawline to come home at his soft lips.   

“Good _heavens_ ,” Bilbo panted against your lips, his trembling hands clung to you desperately as one of his own ghosted over his pelvis. “I-I think I… I’ve grown... _wet_.”

“Wet?” you echoed lavishly as you drank in the sight of his flustered, beautiful state. You fared no better, yourself, but it was a sight to see Bilbo so overcome with these sensations in his new body. He was absolutely beautiful... especially like this. 

“Well, I can’t very much get hard anymore, now can I?” he said with a certain edge to his voice. His (obviously ashamed) flushed face turned away from you in embarrassment as he tensed in your arms and you gently guided his face back to you. 

“Hey, hey,” you cooed. “Male or female, you’re still Bilbo -- _my_ Bilbo. Besides, Gandalf said this spell will wear off eventually, so don’t worry about it. But more to the point, the fact that just kissing me has gotten you so aroused makes _me_ wet.”

A slow, wicked smile accompanied his twinkling eyes, erasing any prior doubt or shame from his former expression, “It does…?”

You smirked, already growing wetter by the dark, perverted thoughts creeping into your brain at the possibilities. “Yeah. In fact, it makes me all the more inclined to fulfill your fantasy, if you so wish it…” You feathered your thumb along his plump, bottom lip, causing his lips to part with a shaky breath. 

Bilbo pressed a kiss to your digit and wiggled his nose in thought before he cast a quick look over his shoulder. You followed his line of sight and guessed that he wanted to evaluate the current status of the company, who were all still preoccupied with their own business. 

Eyes still surveying the whereabouts of your traveling companions, Bilbo led on casually, “Hmm, I don’t believe we would be missed if we slipped away for a few…”

“Surely not,” you readily agreed. “But what would our excuse be?”

“You leave that to me!” he winked before popping forward to leave a chaste, loving peck on your lips. Next, he gathered up your bowls and bounded away to announce your temporary departure as your mind reeled with the impending enjoyment awaiting you. 

You could scarcely believe this was happening. Who would have known that Bilbo shared similar plans and intentions with you as you did him after all this time? Considering how likeminded you both were, it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise but even so, the thought didn’t dull your thunder. This was going to be fun for both of you. 

When Bilbo returned, his hands were clasped behind his back and you casually walked side by side as if you were having nothing more than a leisurely stroll until you were out of sight. 

The moment that you were, he pulled you to him with strength you didn’t know he possessed in a clash of lips and hands. 

“I bought us some time, but we should probably keep things simple for now until we can be alone properly,” he grunted in between kisses.

“What did you have in mind?” you asked breathlessly.  

Biting his lip and placing his palm on the swell of your backside, he rubbed in loving circles, “Well, snogging the life out of each other is a fun and safe start, if that's a route you'd like to take.”

“And if I don’t want to be safe…?” You responded by cupping his perky butt in your hands and giving him a smack. He inhaled sharply, eyes dilating. 

You continued, grabbing him more roughly by his bottom and rubbing your thigh in between his legs for friction you knew he was craving, “If I’d rather have you at my mercy?” 

“Merciful Eru, Y/N!” He yelped, back arching. 

“Shh!” You giggled. As much as you enjoyed all the wonderful noises you were eliciting from Bilbo, they were no doubt going to grow higher in octave and get you both busted. And you haven't even gotten started yet.

“Yes,” he pleaded. “As long as you don’t mind how deliciously improper this is, yes, do it.”

“Such a dirty little hobbit,” you teased darkly. “This is the Bilbo Baggins I never thought I’d see… so much for being well-mannered and innocent.”

“Hush you,” he pouted playfully, giving way to throaty moan when you dipped down to nibble sensitive places on his neck just under his ears -- his weak spot, you’ve come to find. “I’ll have you know I’ve -- ah! -- harbored quite the depraved dreams of us together. I’m hardly an innocent hobbit.”

You quirked an amused eyebrow at that bit of news, “Oh?” 

Biting his lip coyly, though his eyes betrayed the exact opposite innocence, he nodded curtly and gave your bottom a sharp smack in return. “ _Oh,_ indeed. I’m beyond thrilled that our affections for one another are mutual, as are our… libidos. I think we’ll get along splendidly as life partners.”

 _Couldn’t agree more with that!_ you thought giddily. 

He continued, his hands and eyes venturing up your body to play with the ends of your hair, “Though I didn’t anticipate that when we finally did couple together for the first time I’d be a…” he gestured in circles around his bosom in relative distaste. “It’s not exactly a form that invokes the highest confidence for me for what I had planned.”

“Does it really bother you that much?” you leaned back, searching for honesty and whether or not the uncomfortability was too much for him to want to continue, or if he was just doing it for you. 

“Not enough that I want us to stop. Since it’s with you, I will enjoy every second. Which, as far as I’m concerned, we are currently wasting too much of. Come here, sweet thing.” With that, Bilbo grabbed behind your neck and pulled you back to him. Lifting up on his tiptoes, he hastily claimed your mouth again. You nibbled, licked, groped, and moaned in each other’s hold and Bilbo was gradually trying to pull you both down to the ground, but you had other plans. 

“Do you trust me?” you asked after pulling away.

Bilbo searched your darkened eyes hungrily. If he had been his male self he’d no doubt be sporting a prominent hard-on. But since he was female, you knew he had to have been dripping, needing, hot and bothered, and wanting desperately to feel something to quell the aching emptiness he likely had building inside of him. 

One that you had every intention of taking care of. 

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to please you?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Do you want me to overpower you until you’re nothing but a sweaty, quivering, spent mess?”

His head bobbed avidly in affirmation and looked up at you with admiring eyes. “Yes, merciful Valar, yes!” 

You kissed him fiercely and starting ripping at his trouser strings until you could tug them down and off with his assistance in haste. You encountered some trouble when they got to his large, lightly furred feet, but Bilbo aided you by kicking them off until he was standing half-bare in front of you. You were greeted with a little slit with a small patch of hair, the same sandy color as on his head, resting directly on top of it. His legs were creamy and smooth and you felt a powerful urge to caress them, so you dropped down to your knees and let your finger tips drift up along the outside of his legs, palming up to his thighs.

Bilbo stood breathing heavily, lips swollen and red, cheeks flushed, and eyeing you with unmistakable female need and anticipation. He made a point to start unbuttoning his vest and shirk his jacket.

“So soft... uh-uh. Keep that on.”

With a quick swoop, you hoisted Bilbo up in your arms and elicited a startled “Oh!” from him. You positioned your hold so that his thighs rested on your arms and you held him up by cupping his bottom, leaning your weight on him against a boulder. This had you face to face with a very intimate, glistening place on him and you smirked up at him devilishly and he looked down at you in wonder. 

Bilbo quickly caught on to your plans and his chest rose and fell quickly as his breathing intensified with his wild eyed excitement. 

You felt compelled to extend one more courtesy to him before you went any further when you caught a glimmer of reluctance in his eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Very, I’m just… a little nervous, is all. This will, technically, by my first -- and presumably last -- time I’ll have the opportunity for my love to 'devour' me in this way. Not knowing what to expect is rather erotic in and of itself.”

 _Devour._ You liked his choice of words. 

“You can expect to get your mind blown,” you winked. Bilbo chuckled and his nervousness quickly gave way to excitement.

"I'm ready," he breathed.

You started by slowly sliding your tongue up between his slickened folds and his entire body undulated as he let out a gasp. You repeated this pattern a few times, lazily massaging your tongue up and around his folds while taking note of his breathing pattern. Bilbo had forced out various sighs and “oh’s!” among other sweet (and dirty) whispers of encouragement as you kissed him there, all while avoiding the highly sensitive bundle of nerves you know he was just itching for you to get at. 

This time, you flattened your tongue to drag it upward and hardened it to a point in order to flick along the underside of his throbbing clit, eliciting a loud mewl when you abruptly sucked it in between your lips. You grabbed his bottom roughly when he squirmed in your hold, earning you another moan as his head fell back.

“O-oh, _fuck_ , it feels incredible!” he shuddered. You couldn’t help but laugh hearing him swear in front of you for the first time. Something about it felt like an unset privilege; only _you_ were allowed to hear him talk this way. At his proclamation of pleasure, you felt a tingle down in your own neglected pearl, desperately wanting Bilbo’s touch or some form of stimulation. 

“Shh, I don’t want us found before I make you come. Try to stay quiet or I’ll let you down,” you warned. 

Bilbo only whimpered and squirmed, taking in an overwhelming amount of ecstasy through his blood and trying to be quiet about it -- you knew as well as any female how difficult that could be if you’re being well tended to. 

“Easier for you to say. You’re not the one with a wicked tongue on your -- AH, GODS!”

Bilbo clamped a hand across his whimpering mouth as you ravenously resumed feasting into his searing heat, catching him off guard. But he made it a point to put you to work. 

He was literally dripping with want for you and your jaw had already began to ache trying to lap it all up before it could drip. You were baffled that he tasted so blasted sweet. It made no sense! How was it possible that he tasted so sugary? Perhaps you should have saved your “taste like honey” comment that you flirted to Kili the other day to Bilbo instead. 

Oh, the muffled sounds, pleas, and filth of encouragement that spewed from your lover’s lips had you grinding into the boulder and moaning wantonly into his sensitive flesh. What a naughty little hobbit you had! Whenever Bilbo would politely converse with others moving forward, you would remember this moment and each and every little dirty word he was groaning to you when your mouth was on him. You could only imagine what the others would do hearing such language coming out of him--

Bilbo’s other hand dug into your hair and he began grinding into your mouth, fucking your tongue as you thrusted it into him, swiping up, lapping him, swirling it in and around, occasionally using your lips to suckle on him. You took to breathing out of your mouth while you pleasured him, but you still had to pull away for a much needed gasp of air and rest for your jaw and Bilbo sagged his weight into your arms at the sudden loss of contact. Thankfully, he wasn’t heavy in the slightest and you could easily support him in this position or as long as you needed.

“Wh-why’d you stop?” he practically sobbed. 

You gave each of his thighs a sweet kiss and smiled up at him and winked, “Don’t worry, I’ll get you there. Spread yourself open for me.”

“Oh, Y/N…” Bilbo blushed, turning his face away at that obscene request. You found it adorable how he could get so sexed up and dirty one minute and still be so shy and bashful other times. It charmed you to no end. He reluctantly complied by leaning backwards against the boulder for more support so he could hold his flesh apart without losing balance.

Taking a gander at him spread before you, you saw that he was very properly soaked and a surge of smug triumph coursed through you. His clit was darkened, quivering, engorged and hypersensitive. If it wasn’t for him telling you as such, you could tell by the earlier pulses of him around your tongue that he was close, but you couldn’t give proper attention to him with both of your hands full of hobbit bum. 

“Do you feel properly dominated yet?” you asked, not bothering to hide your satisfaction from this at all. You kept your eyes on his as your tongue outlined his cunt, giving the slightest slicking tease to his clit. 

“Mm! At the moment I feel like I’m about to burst. Please, please, I’m so close!” To emphasize his urgency, his feet locked you in place by crossing together at the ankles on your back. 

Another flick of your tongue had him thrashing his head back with his eyes squeezed shut and his legs tightened their hold. “You think that’s enough to keep me in place?”

“N-no…” he whimpered.

“Because you know I can stop whenever I want. I can easily manhandle you in any way I please. And you would like it, wouldn’t you.”

“Yes! Y/N!” he cried when your mouth returned to his open flesh. You pulled away and he started gasping. This teasing assault on him combined with your dirty talk was drawing him closer and closer to his finish. He would never be able to experience a female orgasm after the spell wore off, so you wanted to make it count. 

“Don’t make me beg anymore… I’ll be quiet!” Bilbo sobbed tearlessly. “Quit your teasing and make me come, you temptress.”

He finally met your eye and when your stares locked you dove back in to suckle his clit and you got to watch all of the pleasure you were giving him explode through his expression and straight into your mouth. He bit his lip as his moans increased in frequency and pitch. His clit was hardening and pulsing inside your lips but you didn’t relent until he reached his climax. Given your teasing, was in no time at all. 

Amidst Bilbo’s adoring chant of your name, he begged you to keep going.

You rapidly flicked your tongue where he needed you most until he let out a silent scream, lost in the ignition of his receptors sending his pleasure racing in all directions of his body. His hands at some point locked onto your hair and his legs tightened their hold while he came during his body’s natural response at keeping you in place until the last possible second before going slack. 

“Oh, Y/N. Goodness,” he sighed contently. "Fuck."

Bilbo’s skin was bathed in a sheen of sweat and gradually he came down from his high. You gently began to lower him down until he was settled on his wobbly feet. He slumped against the boulder and tugged you down to sit with him so he could snuggle into you to recoup from the aftermath. 

You made a move to get up to bring him his trousers, but he tightened his hold on you.

“Stay with me,” he whispered. “I need to hold my love in my arms or else I may float away.”

You smiled and wrapped your arms around him, kissing the top of his head and stroking his hair, “My sweet little hobbit.”

He hummed happily as he nuzzled into you. He wore a deep smile on his face the whole time it took him to calm down.

“What did you think?” you asked after a few beats of silence. Bilbo pulled back to look at you, still a little dazed in the eyes, but very much satiated.

“I want to do that to you. I _have_ to do that to you,” Bilbo insisted. 

Bilbo, while remaining in your arms, straddled your hips so that you were face to face. He wrapped his arms around your neck carried a very satisfied grin that you took full credit for. You didn’t realize how turned on you were pleasuring him so thoroughly until you felt a dampness in your own trousers and your ignored aching resurfacing for attention of its own as Bilbo rolled his hips into you and dipped his hand down.  

“More to the point, I _will_ do this to you. You aren't the only one who likes to tease.” And with that, he pulled you in for a passionate kiss, tasting himself on your tongue and lips, and relishing how wonderful it was going to be taking you up to the stars with him. 

 

* * *

 

Bofur took a quick glance around to ensure the coast was clear and groped at his ample bosom again. Though he much preferred having his flat chest, and missed his prick and stones quite terribly, this wasn’t half bad! But he was even more relieved that his facial hair had at least remained unchanged. Some of the lads had either lost all of it -- as poor Kili had -- or most of it and were inconsolable; likely until it all passed. 

Dwalin had still yet to say a kind thing to anyone without snapping and Gloin always seemed to be on the verge of tears if you so much as looked at his beard. 

They, Bofur included, all held onto the hope that Gandalf’s words would ring true and that the spell would wear off (sooner rather than later) so they could continue their quest without any further distractions. But until then Bofur was content to remain in this new body a while longer for a bit of fun. If not just to enjoy the touch of the female body, even if it happened to be his own. 

Who knew a lassie’s nipples were so sensitive in comparison to a male’s? He gave his a pinch and felt a delightful jolt down in his naughty bits and became glad that, unlike his former gender, his arousal was more easily concealed. He’d always wondered what female pleasures were like and until that last bathroom break, he finally got his chance at finding out.

Honestly, why was everyone so upset? Sure, it took a bit of getting used to, but Bofur had never known such pleasures before. It was fantastic! His “wee pearl”, as he referred to his clit, had given him such an intense orgasm than any he'd ever experienced in his life. He wondered if he should slip away just to have another go of it when offhand, he wondered how often Y/N tended to her needs and if they felt as good, if not better, given her lifetime of knowledge. 

However, this past hour he had curious pains stirring in his pelvic region that he couldn’t quite place. He didn’t think much of it at first until a sudden, worrisome thought fluttered through -- what if he was about to encounter a bleeding!? Bofur had heard all kinds of stories from lassies who went through their womansblood and he didn’t know if he had the might (or stomach, and certainly no longer the balls) to experience it firsthand himself. 

 _But what if it was nothing at all?_ He thought. They’d eaten a fair share of fiber in their food of late, which would eventually give everyone a case of the toots, so that could be it. 

But if it wasn’t... 

Bofur figured it would be best to just ask Y/N instead of stewing in his worry. It would be the only way to alleviate his anxiety of possibly needing a rag for… that. He shivered at the thought. But upon looking around, the girl was nowhere to be found. 

“Oi, Nori!” Bofur called. “Have you seen Y/N anywhere?”

Nori pointed out to the area behind them, “Aye, she and Bilbo headed off that way. He said he needed to ask her about ‘lady matters.’” 

Bofur nodded in understanding. Poor lass has had her hands full with them all day and must be going mad with their insistent questions. But even so, Bofur deemed this particular concern highly important and knew Y/N would understand. 

“Ah. I need to see ‘er about one, m’self.”

Nori wagged his thinned, braided eyebrows at him, “Oh, aye?”

Bofur chuckled and shoved him roughly. “Aye. Been havin’ some pains down in… well, this area here,” he indicated downward. “It’s probably nothin’, but I might be getting a… ah. Well, y’know.” Bofur couldn’t even say it out loud, crude as he could be. 

Nori’s face paled as his eyes widened, “No jokin’? _I’m_ having pains there, too!”  

Bofur’s brows lifted into his hairline and then he burst into unexpected laughter. Nori didn’t particularly find it amusing, especially since he realized Bofur was experiencing them, as well. 

“We’re a right couple of lassies now, aren’t we?”

Nori glared and crossed his arms. Still not used to having engorged breasts, he made a second more irked attempt at crossing them under them instead of across on impulse. 

“Come on, Nori! Like I said, it’s likely nothin’ to fuss over. It’s likely just gas--”

“Aye, lad. It is somethin’ to fuss over! Do you know what it means with us havin’ these pains?” When Bofur gave an indifferent shake of his head Nori explained, “It means we could be sharin’ the same _cycle_.”

Now it was Bofur’s turn to pale. Satisfied that the seriousness of the matter was properly acknowledged, Nori felt the need to continue, now with a lowered voice, “And we aren’t the only ones. I overheard Ori whining about it earlier. I told ‘im it was probably somethin’ he ate, but then later on I started feelin’ them, too. Then Oin. We’ve been traveling together for so long it’s possible that--that we might all... y’know. And if Bilbo had to talk to her about ‘lady matters’,” he paused to let that thought sink in, “it would make sense that he went to her for the same thing.”

Bofur swallowed, “Ye don’t think…”

“They’ve been gone a good while.”

Bofur nodded at his implication, “We need to find Y/N.”

Together both of them scampered off unseen in the direction Nori last saw them hoping she could provide an answer to their fears. 

 

* * *

 

Bilbo reached for your breasts, which seemed enormous in comparison to his tiny hands, and engulfed them into his mouth from over your clothes and you could feel his hot breath seeping into them. You remained standing as he started to kiss his way down your body. 

Leaning over him, you got a good view of Bilbo’s bare bum perking up as he lowered down until he readjusted his position by resting on his knees to get to work on your own trouser strings. 

“Oh my, someone still looks mighty smug,” Bilbo sassed. 

Undeterred, you reply, “Says the hobbit who just came all over my face. See if you can top that.” You pointed to the drying wetness you still sported around your mouth.

“I fully intend to return the favor, darling. Tenfold. And what do we have here? Is someone over excited?” Bilbo sensually rubbed a hand against the hot, damp crotch of your trousers and your body leaned forward to grip him on the shoulders. You didn’t realize how stimulated you were while anticipating your turn, but Bilbo's past experience in bedsport were proving true -- he knew exactly what he was doing. And boy, was he extra smug about it.

“Shut up, you--”

“Thank Mahal, there she is! Oi, Y/N!”

Bofur’s voice resounding from behind caused you to curse at being caught (basically) with your pants down. On impulse, your body whipped around and you raised your hands up ready to defend yourself after a quick wipe of your mouth to remove the evidence as you desperately tried to come up with a plausible explanation why Bilbo was naked from the waist down and in the process of untying your trouser strings. But you only managed to squeak out, “Wh-what’re you doing here?!”

Nori was next to join Bofur and it only added to the heat blooming on your cheeks at being caught by more than one pair of eyes. It would be easier to explain, or having just the one person keep your secret, but two -- and for the duo to be Bofur and Nori, no less -- was going to prove very taxing and costly, indeed. Poor Bilbo must be absolutely mortified. 

The dwarves both stopped and looked at you strangely and you quickly got to work on retying your trouser strings. 

“I can explain, I swear…” you mumbled lamely. 

The two shared a weird look that you didn’t know what to make of. 

“Explain what?” Bofur asked with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“Where’s Bilbo? Are those his trousers?” Nori tacked on, squinting at the discarded garment nearby. 

You turned your head to find that Bilbo, somehow, managed to beat feet out of sight but failed to take his trousers with him. Weird. He had to have be hiding somewhere. But it was strange because you didn’t hear him scamper off, then again you were in a state of shock. 

Quickly you thought up an excuse to erase that amused expression being exchanged between them, “Oh. Well, he’s--he needed some privacy.”

Bofur and Nori shared another look and your heart was pounding, not knowing what was going on here and what silent conversation was being had between them. That explained nothing about why he had no friggin' pants! What were you thinking? “It was a personal matter, if you must know. Ahem -- I’m sorry, did you two need something?”

“Aye,” Bofur admitted with a gulp and a blush. “Y’see, er…” he looks to Nori for help who only shook his head and frowned. “We’re gettin’ some pains.”

You felt something brush by your cheek and you swatted the offender before offhandedly tucking some hair behind your ear. You were relieved they didn’t catch you and Bilbo in the act of going down on each other, but they interrupted you during your turn and you were still hot and bothered. Your response came out more snippy than you intended because of it, “Okay, so why come to me? Go to Oin if you aren’t feeling well.”

“That’s the thing,” Bofur resumed. “He can’t really help with this matter. How do you know if yer about to get yer… y’know.” Bofur wiggling his hand at you was not helping what he was trying (and failing) to ask about, nor your mood. 

You crossed your arms. “No, I can’t say that I do. What are you trying to ask?” 

Nori nudged him with his elbow to hurry him up and Bofur actually looked embarrassed. Another tickle befell your cheek and you tucked your disheveled hair back behind your ear with a rush of annoyance.

“We think that we might be gettin’ what Bilbo came to you for.”

Your brows creased in deep confusion, having no idea what he was talking about. Bilbo obviously didn’t tell them that you both were off to snog in the woods, but what on earth did he say to birth such ideas in Bofur’s head? 

“I’m afraid you’ll need to be a lot more specific than that,” you said. Bofur adjusted his hat and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We think that we, and the rest of the lads, are about to start--to start--Mahal, I can’t,” Bofur chuckled. Nori punched him in the arm and hissed something at him in Khuzdul.

Still not appreciating this unwelcome interruption to your erotic rendezvous with your new lover, you opened your mouth to give them a piece of your mind when you felt a sharp pinch on your ass. “Ow!” you yelled, turning around expecting to find a bee, but seeing… nothing.

But you thought you heard something. Something which sounded like it belonged to--

“Y’all right, lass?”

“Yeah, Bofur. I think I just got stung by something. Anyway, can one of you please just tell me… what you… need,” you managed with difficulty. 

_Bilbo was here._

You didn’t know how, but he was here! You could feel Bilbo’s hands and mouth on you right in front of them but he was invisible. You couldn't understand how that was possible, but you recognized those small hands and the way they started rubbing you on your--

You shuddered and clenched your thighs together, trying to appear normal and not utter any sounds border-lining on pornographic. Why, that sneaky, naughty little hobbit!

“Valar above, just out with it!” Nori spat. 

Bilbo relented just long enough for you to soak in the words that followed from Bofur: “We think we’re all starting our womansblood and we need help.”

Bilbo forced your legs apart and you stumbled. It must have looked to them that you were in shock, but you tried to appear as though you were merely shifting your position. You kept your arms crossed to attempt to look convincing when you felt Bilbo press against you from behind, dipping an arm underneath you to swirl a devilish little finger against your clit from under your clothing. Your brain was on temporary hiatus between taking in and processing the incredulous words Bofur just said in conjunction with your hobbit lover pleasing you while you were trying to hold it together. 

“Have you bled?” you bit out, feeling Bilbo move in front of you and pressing kisses up your leg.

“No! But we’ve been havin’ pains, y’see--”

“--pains that might be bleedin’ pains!” Nori interjected now that the issue was out in the open. 

Bilbo kissed higher. 

“Okay--” you started, but the two were off on a tangent, giving you fleeting moments of needed self-control.  

“Ori has ‘em, too--”

“--the whole company could be on their way to bleedin’!”

“And if Bilbo came to ya, we figured he must have it, too!”

“H-how do you know they’re period cramps and not an upset, ah! Er, upset stomach?” Bilbo’s mouth was now on your heat, with the added friction of his hands groping at you due to your clothing being in the way. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, knowing that there was no escape from an invisible opponent. Even if you moved, Bilbo would just go right back where he was and you had no way of knowing where he'd be or what he would do. 

“We don’t…” Bofur admitted. “Oi, are you well? Ye look a bit agitated.”

 _Ain’t that the truth!_ You wanted to yell.

Nori recoiled in fear, “Are you on yours…?” Then to Bofur, “Durin’s axe, what’d I tell ya?! All of us are on the same cycle!”

“No!” You shouted at the first swelling of climax. You heard Bilbo giggle in response and swat you on the bottom. 

“No,” you repeated more softly. Praying Bilbo would lay off until they left. This was so embarrassing. Despite the random bites, kisses, touches, and brush of skin, and whispered naughty words from your hobbit, he seemed to be kind enough to allow you to give Bofur and Nori a full explanation on what it feels like getting your period and going through all their symptoms before you all determined that they either just had to go to the bathroom, or had gas.

Based on their “symptoms” they weren’t craving any foods (no more than usual), there was no bloating, no sore breasts, or lethargy and the cramps weren’t constant. 

Relieved and thankful, Nori happily retreated back to camp with a skip in his step and you almost wished they _would_ get their period if not for disturbing your playtime with Bilbo. Ugh, that little rascal. 

Bofur tipped his hat in thanks and left shortly after as well. He encouraged you and Bilbo to head back soon, as it was getting dark and quipped an “us lassies need to stick together!” And with a forced polite smile you assured him you would make your way back as soon as Bilbo was done doing what he needed. You craned your neck to ensure they were well out of sight. 

“Bilbo, so help me, you better show yourself!” you hissed. You heard a giggle move in from behind you.

“Oh, that was quite fun!”

Bilbo appeared directly in front of you as if by magic and it startled you backwards. He leapt forward to catch you before you stumbled. 

“How did you do that?” you asked in awe.

“With this.”

He presented a gold ring to you and explained how he found it, confiding you on another secret to add to the pile you shared with one another. That hobbit was just full of surprises. You had no idea you’d be in for such a wild ride being with him, but if this was a taste of what was to come for your future together, you couldn’t wait. But you could have done without the audience... you vowed payback for this.

“Almost blowing our cover aside, I don’t know whether I should be glad you didn’t finish me off in front of them or upset,” you chuckled as you watched him putting on his pants. The cheeky bastard made a show of it and wiggled his bottom at you, throwing a brazen smile at you from over his shoulder. 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly finished. I still intend to have you come undone by my mouth,” he said, voice deepening. "It's only fair I treat my lady." Slowly, right before your eyes you watched the spell wearing off turning Bilbo back into the male hobbit that he was. Aroused and all. 

He looked down at himself in momentary surprise and adjusted his erection in his trousers and captured your hands in his and kissed them. “Well, that was adventitious! Would you like to continue?”

Pulling him into you, you placed a kiss on his head before dipping down to land one on his lips. “Depends. Do you intend to finish now that you’re back to your old self?”

“No, I intend to finish _you_ ,” came his saucy reply before he vanished once more. 

 

* * *

 

Within the next 24 hours, the rest of the company were happily back to their old selves. Bilbo and you chose to keep your courting a secret, wanting to announce it after the quest was finished. But you both agreed that you’d continue to steal away to share your moments together, both innocent and otherwise. Thankfully, none of the company stumbled into their periods during the lingering time frame they had left as females, but there was a lot of unnecessary, enthusiastic gas-passing, belching, and other unsavory “manly” activity going on as the dwarves rejoiced in being back in their proper bodies -- and not being subject to the "horror" that was menstruating. 

Bilbo, appalled by their abrasive manners, harshly chided them before tugging you away.

The company was so involved with being back to normal and seeing who could "honk the loudest" that you weren’t even missed. You and Bilbo sat in the cool night air looking up at the stars, taking refuge in your shared solitude. You were pressed tightly together thigh to thigh while holding hands. Bilbo’s thumb stroked yours lightly and in his free hand, he partook in a few puffs of his pipe and you listened to him talk about the future and how excited he was that you were going to come live with him.  

As much as you enjoyed the raw passion you shared for one another, even though you haven’t gone all the way yet, it was just as satisfying and wholesome to indulge in simple moments like this. 

“I’ll have to commission the woodcarver for a suitable bed for you. I’m afraid my spare guest room is a bit small,” Bilbo pondered to himself out loud. 

“I’m getting my own room?” you asked in surprise. 

Bilbo looked puzzled for a moment and just a touch embarrassed. “Well, yes, of course! Oh... would you rather have your own burrow? I suppose I naturally assumed we’d be sharing mine--”

“No! I’m sorry, I thought that when you asked me to move in with you as your partner that we’d be… you know, sharing your room and bed.”

You felt his hand squeeze yours and looked over to see him smiling shyly. “Oh, I think I much prefer that arrangement. I didn’t want to presume we’d be sharing, but I did hope that we’d get there sooner than later. I'll still commission for that larger bed just the same. I want you to feel at home, especially in our room! Huh... I like that. Our room.”

He cheerfully continued puffing on his pipe to completion before extinguishing it and glanced up at the stars above in thought of other things he needed to plan for and turned to you questioningly when you began to snicker. 

“For someone who can be so raunchy and sexual, I still can’t help but laugh whenever you get so sweet, polite and honorable,” you explained. How cute was it that even though you both ate each other out that he'd feel the need to provide you with your own room instead of sleeping in the same bed as him. It was considerate to be sure, but you found it superfluous given how you deepened your relationship so. “Those dwarves have no idea what you’re capable of.”

“They almost did, if you recall,” Bilbo smirked, settling his hand on your bottom to revisit a sharp pinch. You jumped in response and shoved him with your shoulder as you laughed at the memory. How could you ever forget that? It’s a good thing you still had _your_ pants on or else that would have sealed your doom for sure. No way you'd be able to explain that.

“Yeah, all because they thought they were getting their periods -- hey, that reminds me: what exactly did you say you needed me for, anyway?”

Bilbo linked his fingers with yours and shrugged, taking in the details of your face with a cute smile and wink, “I just said that I had urgent lady matters that needed tending to; I wasn’t exactly lying.” You blushed, recalling the act of pleasuring him and how he very generously returned the favor after Bofur and Nori left. Just the thought of it heated your skin up again.

“And then you tried to sully me right in front of them while you were safely hidden away,” you tutted. 

He sassed back, “Would you rather we have had an audience? I’m not partial to putting on a show, myself, but it was rather appealing to have _you_ at _my_ mercy.”

You leaned over to steal a kiss from him and sighed. “What have I gotten myself into?” you laughed. 

“Another great adventure?” he offered. 

“The greatest.” 

After several minutes of holding each other close and sharing tender words and kisses, you very reluctantly pulled apart when voices started to approach. You turned your heads in their direction and while Bilbo stuttered and flapped beside you, you whistled and laughed at the show.

“As if honking your horns all night long wasn’t enough, now you’re traipsing about half naked? There’s a lady here!” Bilbo gestured wildly. 

“Aye,” Dwalin stated matter-of-factly as he proudly displayed his masculine, bare hairy chest as the rest of the dwarves marched by with towels and bathing supplies. “Which is why we’re headin’ to the stream to wash. Ye should come.” Dwalin gave a parting nod to you and followed after the others.

“Yes, you should,” you agreed, heaping as much innuendo into those three innocent words that you could. Bilbo was so flustered by the flurry of activity passing by that he didn’t seem to catch your meaning. 

Bofur strode through with no shame in showing off his own bare chest to you and threw Bilbo a towel in passing and a charming wink your way before joining the others further down. 

Bilbo stood and stretched, making a show at removing his jacket and unbuttoned himself for you. “Well, I guess I am due for a bath. Shame you can’t come with.” 

“I never said I wasn’t,” you reply silkily.

Bilbo paused and blinked, “What?”

Slipping on the magic ring he gifted you, the look on Bilbo’s face in response was pure gold the moment you disappeared from view. He rapidly understood exactly what was going to be in store for him and tried desperately to hide the growing evidence that he was very much looking forward to the punishment you had planned.

“Oh dear…” he gulped as Kili and Fili flanked him from either side and guided him down to the stream with you following closely behind, ready and waiting for just the right moment to strike. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has hung in there and continues to read this series! I hope you're enjoying the content. Given this chapter and my future plans for this collection, I feel a rating change is in order! Additionally, Bilbo has (and forever will) always strike me as a closet sex fiend. That whole prim and proper bit is all an act -- an act, I say! (At least when it comes to being intimate with his special one.) I'm sorry if this sucks lol.


	12. The Road Less Traveled (ThorinxReader) Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and yourself are still paying your dues at the inn. You arrive at a misunderstanding that gives you doubt about your intentions with Thorin and now he's confused about where you stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slight NSFW.
> 
> Part 2 of 3/4 of The Road Less Traveled. Hmm... not sure where I want this story to go yet, but I have some ideas! I think another chapter or two can bring about the satisfying conclusion for this story. :3
> 
> Also: sorry for the long wait! Between writing back and forth between chapters for this and my main story, Promise, that I recently added (and coupled with the soul-sucking day job) I haven’t been able to update as regularly as I’d like. Please don’t hate meee! ;^; I have updates in the making and all shall be uploaded soon-ish.

Thorin roused from a dreamless sleep to the smell of breakfast cooking downstairs and the sound of birds singing outside. Although he didn’t fall asleep until later than anticipated, he felt suspiciously well-rested. It wasn’t until he woke up fully that he remembered with a start why. As he began to sit up, he paused when he felt a small resistance upon his chest. Y/N’s hand was still wound around the front of Thorin’s body. Her fingers had found themselves loosely tangled into his hair at some point during the night. It made his heart hum. 

So as not to wake her, Thorin slowly and gently pried Y/N’s hand free from his locks, causing her to stir from behind him enough to flop over on her back and utter an incomprehensible grumble.  

Thorin felt a flush rise in his cheeks upon seeing her night shirt had rose up to just under her chest to expose a vast expanse of skin of her abdomen. On impulse, he reached a hand over to tug the garment down for her modesty, but his movement stilled in the air as he allowed himself a private peek at her soft flesh catching the warm glow of the morning sun streaming in through the window. Even though he had seen her in her full nudity (and what a glorious sight _that_ was to behold), this teasing glimpse seemed more sinfully sweet somehow. More precious. Forbidden. 

 _Beautiful._  

Flashes of their kiss from last night tumbled through Thorin’s mind and he swallowed the memory down with immense difficulty as he tugged the night shirt down. There was no mistaking what they shared; it was a lover’s kiss. He _wanted_ her. And not just in a physical sense. Thorin had the terrifying thought to create that irreversible special bond with the woman who made him feel alive for the first time in decades. Somehow this perplexing, aggravating creature had forced herself into the chambers of Thorin’s chest and breathed life back into that vulnerable organ of his. He thought the bloody thing had shriveled and died long ago, holding room only for a select few both living and departed. But it would appear that, bonding or not, Y/N had forever left her mark on him by opening his heart to her.

Which couldn’t have happened at a worse time.

His sense of duty and purpose for his future endeavors had forced him to be prepared to carry on regardless of this monumental revelation, despite the attraction that blossomed. But the novice lover in him was terrified -- and, truthfully, much too stubborn -- of letting her go, having only just found this chance at love and knowing it will never happen again. A dwarf’s heart could only be given once and he couldn’t even recall when it had given itself to Y/N, but guessed it must have occurred during their travels over time without him noticing. 

How could Thorin continue on his perilous quest with a sound mind knowing what he would be leaving behind? Y/N was fully capable of protecting herself -- though Thorin felt that she needn't hold any desire to prove it -- but since Thorin had grown to fancy her, he was conflicted and confused with these newfound emotions swirling like a storm within him. And... how they should be dealt with.  

It would have been much easier for him to ignore this irksome romantic conundrum and continue on as planned had he any inclination that Y/N did not return his affections. He was plenty capable of shouldering the burden of unrequited love. But never had Thorin dared dream she might want him, too. Not until he saw the way she looked at him in his bareness. And her body.... When they kissed... If he had continued down that road there would be no going back. For either of them. If he had touched her -- touched her _there;_ in that sweet, wet, warm, secret place that her hand was in -- he would have wanted more. And he would have gotten it. The fact that it was a forbidden desire only made it all the more enticing, erotic and irresistible to him. Y/N was so unlike any maiden he’d ever met… she was her own force of nature, blunt, and headstrong with a questionable lack in manners that he found himself approving of. Additionally, she didn’t seem to have any premarital vows of chastity put in place and although she wasn’t one to parade her feminine wiles to the weakness of the male sex, Thorin was bestowed the honor of her consent in touch not knowing what it would ultimately to do him, or her. 

And that was dangerous. 

Pride deriving from a more primal corner of his highly masculine sense of thought wanted to give her a good, hard scolding on all the preposterous words she spoke to that Beth maid about his bedsport aptitude, or lack thereof. He’d show her. He’d show the whole bloody inn! He’d leave Y/N a writhing, breathless, numb mess, sweating and purring like a kitten beneath him begging for more before anyone dared question the vitality of Thorin Oakenshield again-- 

Thorin’s erection sprung out hard and fast, thickening in his night trousers. It was throbbing angrily at being denied so harshly last night since he had refused to touch the thing and it seemed to stir at the very notion of resuming last night's events. It knew that he and Thorin had unfinished business and it wasn’t leaving until he got to it. But the truth was, Thorin hadn’t meant for any of last night to happen at all. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. He hadn’t meant to reach out his hand and touch the softness of Y/N’s cheek. He hadn’t expected to fall even deeper in love...

Such reckless behavior was unbecoming of a 295 year old dwarf -- for a king. He thought he had more control than this. It was already hell on him trying not to envision her naked figure in front of him every blasted second of the day! How could he have been so careless as if he were no more than a besotted dwarfling? What would his father have said? And poor Y/N...  She clearly acquiesced to receiving his touches and she had begged so deliciously for Thorin’s hands to relieve her from her passion-induced woes, but he couldn’t trust his possessive impulses to comply to them because it would have led him to take her. And so, he had left her just as she -- jestingly -- implied to the inn host. Sexually frustrated and unfulfilled. 

The exact opposite of what he would otherwise intend. 

Morally speaking, the true why’s of it were simple and finite: they weren’t married. Whereas this behavior was more common among the race of Man, bedding a partner was the most sacred of acts in dwarven culture and given Thorin’s pivotal station, he was taught never to take it lightly unless he had found his mate. It would have bonded and imprinted them for life whether she felt it or not. Bedding Y/N would mean she was forever his wife; it would induce taking her essence into Thorin’s for him to carry into his very being. She would be a part of him and, if Man’s fornication worked the same, Thorin would be a part of her. The fact that Thorin was an uncrowned king also threw in additional complications to this situation that far outweighed the immediate satisfaction that would be gained by mating. 

And still he would do it if he could. Like the besotted, smitten foolish male that he was. 

His people may quirk a brow at his choice of Queen Under the Mountain, but human and dwarf pairings were possible even as uncommon as they were. But Thorin would have her regardless, he just needed a plan. And a safe distance from her before his body took over his sense of reasoning. 

He sighed then, catching himself before he got too deep in these thoughts. 

Durin's beard, what was he thinking? He couldn't even tell her any details about himself, his life, or his family... how could he expect to become intimate with her or wed her when she knew so little of him? Is marriage even what _she_ wants? And did Y/N even love him in return? Gods… the thought that she saw him as nothing more than a sexual fantasy to fulfill was enough to make him feel ill whether it was true or not.

Yes, laying together would be wrong on numerous levels and he would not do that to her or himself. By the heavens, he didn’t know if he had the heart to even do it. He’d lost so much already… it would kill him to lose her, too, especially given how he already felt without the fortified bond; long after they parted their separate ways, he knows that he would pine for her.

Thorin would not subject Y/N to his prowess as if she were no more than a one-time lay. If Thorin decided to claim her, he would do it the right way by asking for her hand first. The only trouble is that concept was so far out of reach it might as well be an ongoing reverie.

Thinking on how far they'd come since first they met during his black smithing days up to this very moment, Thorin couldn't help but snicker. Who would have guessed that fates had arranged for a human woman to be the one who would tame him so.

And by all above, what Thorin would give to have her "tame" him! 

Thorin’s length continued to pulse unfazed by his thoughts, logic or morality; it was much more interested in his hidden desires. It leaked pent up excitement and he awkwardly adjusted himself remembering Y/N’s brazenness in pleading for him to touch her breasts that strained towards him from under her shirt. He recalled the wet noises she emitted from her ministrations inside her trousers -- the thought had him clenching the sheets and biting into his lip.

He had to get out of there.  

After covering Y/N up and tucking her in, Thorin quietly left and headed for the bathroom to tend to his needs. He noted rather disgruntledly that there wasn’t a latch to set on the door, so he made sure to be quick about it to avoid anyone bursting in on him again. Gods knew he was long overdue for a release. Maybe it would make being around Y/N more bearable after emptying his load. 

Thorin was surprised he had any libido left in him after such an extended dry spell. But then again being around someone you were wildly attracted to had a way of revving your drive.

He propped himself over the toilet with one arm to brace his weight and dropped his other hand to cup and stroke his bulge over the fabric. His lad was solid as steel and ready to explode. _How long has it been?_ Thorin wondered as he grinded into his palm. There was no one of interest to him back in his youth and he wasn’t yet promised to anyone; additionally, he rarely ever had time to really tend to himself. Only because he was constantly being groomed by his father and grandfather on the ways of his eventual ruling-- ah, Thorin recalled with a quiet grunt after a solicitous squeeze. He last tended to his needs just a week before Smaug attacked. 

Thorin would have lost his drive and momentum to continue his pleasures once that bitter memory resurfaced if not for the still-fresh visual of Y/N arching before him in his mind’s eye. Thorin's large hand increased in fervor. He would cherish last night's erotic memories for the rest of his days, especially in rare moments like this. He doubted there would be any other chance for alone time in the quest to come with thirteen dwarves, a wizard and a hobbit traveling along at his side. Dwalin alone would be attached to his hip. Thorin smirked, curious to what Dwalin would think of her. 

Yanking down his trousers to spring his erection free, Thorin tightly fisted his thickness and began a steady pump from mid-shaft to his reddened tip, giving a slight twist just under the dripping head during the upstroke. He’d only just started but he was already breathing heavily.

He imagined what it would have been like had he touched Y/N as she begged him to. Thorin’s hips rolled into his hand at the thought of burying his face between her breasts and rasping her skin with his beard. He would knead and grope her mounds with attentive care and suckle on her like a newborn babe -- he'd been wanting to do that the moment he saw them, since the bathroom incident. Then, and only then, when Y/N pleaded him for more would he finally mount her; thrust his arousal against her own to let her feel just exactly what she’d be taking inside. Thorin bit his lip to quiet his groan from escaping too loudly.  

He then imagined taking Y/N and the velvety warm, ecstasy that he would feel when he slipped inside; surging roughly into her dripping heat. His hips snapped forward and back of their own accord while he kept his hand locked and steady, he paused just for a moment to lick his hand before returning to his pleasure, needing more slick to aid his friction.  

A deep moan crawled its way out of his throat and he sucked it back with a hiss as he tightened his grip and pumped even faster, the sound of his fist meeting his flesh was a loud, patterned skin-on-skin slap. Clinging on to the memory of how Y/N's lips tasted and how her naked body looked in this very room was his vice of choice before spilling into his hand not once, but twice. 

For a brief second in his post orgasmic, lust-induced stupor, Thorin sagged against his shaking arm that was holding him up and a part of him considered coupling with her despite it all and talking about it later. What would the harm be? They were consenting adults playing husband and wife, maybe they could look past the temporary secrets that kept him apart and be married for real. Thorin’s hips stuttered into his hands and air exploded out in a gasp as a third powerful stream of his thick release jetted out of him and into the toilet at the thought of calling Y/N "wife". Slumping forward and slamming his head on the wall in the process, he eyed the mess of his seed in the water. A deep, male primal urge wanted him to plant that deep inside her so she could take on his essence and feel his connection to her surging through his soul when a voice of clarity rang through his head, whipping that primal beast back into submission. “This is why,” it said.

 

* * *

 

When you woke up and got ready, Thorin was nowhere in sight. You fought the urge to be upset at that but a part of you sort of expected him to sneak away undetected given what transpired between you last night. _Did that really happen?_ you wondered to yourself as you got presentable. You wouldn’t put it past yourself to dream up a little diddy like that. But given Thorin’s uncanny noble willpower, you concluded that it really did happen. If that had been a dream, you knew exactly how it would have concluded. And it would have involved your disposition waking up on the right side of the bed this morning.

Another giveaway that last night happened was established by how Thorin was avoiding your eye when you headed down the stairs to join the others for breakfast. Well, he’d done that plenty of times in the past after a spat, but it was the _way_ he was avoiding your eye. 

Yeah, this whole “I’m not speaking to you, let’s pretend this never happened” wasn’t going to fly with you. Especially because you wanted to apologize to him for how you reacted. Now that the heat of the moment was long since over, you understood that Thorin was just trying to explain himself and you shut him down rather unfairly and ended your night going to bed angry with one another. If it was any other kind of disagreement, you wouldn’t be so torn up about it, but… you _kissed_. And not just a quick, platonic peck, either. You basically made love with your mouths. That tended to have a way of changing things as well as complicating them. You both still had a long way until you got to the Shire, and you didn’t want to basically restart your whole relationship back to the beginning with your walls up.

You had to talk to him. 

Beth smiled and greeted you when you got to the table and then threw you an expectant look when nobody was looking which probably read, “Well? How did last night go?” thinking you two had jumped right in on discussing your “needs” and tended to them. To which you had zero intention of answering. But luckily, Bertie came to your rescue yet again with a chipper clap and rub of his hands.

“This smells as wonderful as it looks, as always!” he preened. 

Beth slapped his reaching hand with a wooden spoon before he could snag a fresh muffin from the mountain in the center of the table and he recoiled with a curse. “The table is still being set. I’ve a platter of ham that needs to go here,” she pointed to a vacant space, “and the end table from the sitting room brought round for the other pastries.”

Bertie shook his hand and grimaced. “Fine, fine, I’ll go get it.” 

The older gentleman, Aaryn, voiced something about helping him out with that, but Thorin immediately jumped in. 

“Allow me,” he interjected, letting Bertie lead the way to the sitting room. Thorin made sure to take the route that avoided direct contact with you and your stare leveled on his back before Beth caught your attention again.

“Your Thorin is such a skilled baker! I’m glad he made so many buns and pastries; those scones are to die for! I’ll have to request he make an extra batch before you both take off.”

You smiled and nodded indulgently, still irked at Thorin’s evasive behavior, but thankful for the distraction she was providing. “Who would have thought, huh?”

She opened her mouth to say something else, but whispered a quick, "We'll talk later." Once the men returned.

You assisted with setting out the remaining food and the boys did their part for any heavy lifting and soon everything was set and ready to eat. Thorin, still not gracing you with his steely gaze, had done the random courtesy of pulling out your chair for you before tucking you in and took his seat beside you.

Not to be outdone by such chivalric gestures, Bertie scrambled to offer Beth the same notion, which was met with pleasant surprise and praise. Aaryn made a round of filling everyone’s cup with juice and the three of them commenced in some cheerful chatter revolved around how wonderful everything smelled and how anxious they were to taste Thorin’s treats after Beth had breathed such compliments about them.

Before you could even get your folded napkin in your lap, Thorin had snagged your plate and had begun filling it with everything on the table. You gave him a suspicious side eye, unsure of what this sentiment meant or if he was just doing it to uphold your marital ruse in front of your hosts.

“My word, lad! Where did you learn to bake like this?” Bertie exclaimed. He heartily dug into the muffins, snagging a third one to plop on his plate. Aaryn and Beth hummed their approval; their full mouths happily munching away were evidence enough that they also found the taste heavenly.

“Living with a woman has its advantages,” he replied simply.

Huh. An innocent enough sentence, but still...

You tried to ignore the curious pang of worry you felt in his response, not knowing if he was alluding to that woman being “you” or someone else. Perhaps his mother? Hell, you didn’t know Thorin could bake either and given how close to the chest he was about his life, you wouldn’t have any inkling of knowing if he had learned to bake from his family, or...

Wait.

What if Thorin was currently living with someone -- a _female_ someone -- and had learned it from them? 

In your silent horror, something you never considered nor pondered before shifted into place in your mind. You thought back to the way Thorin acted towards you on a daily basis and began ticking off imaginary check points in your mind recalling specific events: he diverted your playful, flirty advances at every opportunity, showed hesitance and distaste at pretending to be your husband, was reluctant and torn to kiss you when you were finally intimate for the first time, when he refused to go any farther because he said it was wrong, and now with him purposefully avoiding you. There could only be one reason why Thorin would feel the need to explain himself to as to why what you did last night was wrong, which lead you to the conclusion of-- 

_Good gods, Thorin was a married man!_

It all made sense now!

Your plate was soon returned to you with a gorgeous arrangement of almost every item on the table. Everything was very deliberately placed on your plate and in such a quantity that assured you wouldn’t be bursting at the seams after you finished. 

But after your little revelation you no longer held any appetite to enjoy the meal. Taking a deep breath to take hold of yourself you fought back another pang of hurt in your chest that you didn’t expect to feel along with the guilt that crept its way in. Why should _you_ care if Thorin was married? It’s not like he was really your husband and you were both going to go your separate ways soon anyway. It was no time to get emotionally attached. Especially if that someone was unavailable. Gods, what must he think of you… but how could you have known? He never told you anything about being taken.

The table chatter was lively, and even Thorin seemed keen to join in, but kept quiet for the most part; speaking only when posed with a question and making sounds of acknowledgement whenever appropriate. Thorin casually brushed minor touches to you here and there, whether on purpose or accidentally, you weren't sure. Normally, you would have responded enthusiastically to give him some encouragement, but now you only withdrew further in on yourself.

Ugh, why did this hurt you so much? Why were you filled with such loss and disappointment? Guess it meant that not only were you attracted to Thorin, but you loved the oaf, too. Great.

No matter -- there was nothing you could do about it. Taking a page from Thorin’s book, you decided that distancing yourself from each other would be best. You shelved that talk you planned to have with him in the far corners of your mind as it was now superfluous; only willing to take it out whenever you felt the need to revisit that enticing memory again long after you had left each other. 

So as not to draw attention to yourself, you dug in to the tasteless food on your plate even though it took all of your might to keep it down, saving the more “dessert-type” foods for last just to spite Thorin one last time. 

Your heartache aside, it was a shame; the food seemed wonderfully prepared and decadent it was such a waste. In a weird way, the same could almost be said for you. 

 

* * *

 

Thorin thought that, after a rather satisfying wank in the bathroom, by distancing himself from the girl he would have been brought some clarity. He was wrong. He was wrong and now he was confused.

After breakfast was over and the chores for the day were assigned, Thorin snuck yet another peek at Y/N and found that something was definitely the matter. Y/N didn’t speak much at breakfast and was responding to him touching her. And, more puzzling still, she was avoiding him entirely even when he had given her an open invitation to reciprocate his touches or partake in conversation. He didn’t know how attached he’d become to Y/N’s constant presence that when she was no longer her usual persistent self, he instantly picked up on it and became unsettled. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t have an opportunity to speak to her about this before Beth swept her up for chores. Nor did he know what he would've said even if he did. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong? No snarky retorts for me today? Why are you not pestering me with your usual antics? Why have you not approached me with any of your silly demands?” No, he couldn’t say any of those things. They sounded much too flighty. But still, he _had_ taken notice to the distance. And he didn’t like it at all. 

Through Thorin’s deductive reasoning, it had to be because of what happened between them last night. And he felt like kicking himself in the arse all over again. Had he come on too strong? Or was she merely still upset that he hadn’t satisfied her?

Durin’s bloody axe, he had a valid reason for it but she was being too stubborn to listen! But then... why did she cuddle with him last night afterward? He frowned to himself. Maybe that wasn’t the problem. Maybe she was having regrets…

The uncertainty was painful enough but nothing as much as his need to touch her and care for her once he decided to pursue her -- properly. He doted on her since he woke and was displaying courting signs all morning, for Mahal's sake! And with her not acting like herself, Thorin couldn't help but feel increasingly anxious, not knowing whether she was rejecting his advances, or just had something on her mind.

They needed to have words, pure and simple.

And while Y/N toiled away in the garden preparing for the day's lunch, Thorin took the time to collect his thoughts on what to say as Bertie showed him where the stable was that needed tending. 

Thorin's first task of the day was caring for the horses while Y/N cleaned the dishes. Bertie gave him the rundown of all the chores Thorin would be doing and instead of leaving him to it he simply hovered around as if he had nothing better to do than watch. Thorin found that odd, but assumed that he stuck close in case Thorin had any questions or needed guidance on the particulars of the chore. 

Overviewing the work to be done in the stable, Thorin didn’t see any reason why Bertie wasn’t capable of doing this on his own with ease. After all, these were likely _his_ daily tasks, and if given to Thorin to repay their debt of staying in their lodgings, he desired nor required any assistance to fulfill it from Bertie because Thorin was more than able to do it on his own. And yet, Bertie remained (still), taking up ramblings of unimportant topics for small talk, likely to fill in the empty space in the air. 

Not that Thorin minded the company, but he sensed there was more to it. And that was somehow unnerving and disrupted him of his own thoughts. 

Thorin didn’t know the man well enough to adequately assume his character, but he did note some common characteristics one usually emitted when there was something on their mind that needed to be said but when nothing of importance came out, Thorin shrugged the thought away. 

Bertie took up to humming a tune as Thorin shoveled, swept, and organized the small stable space before preparing the hay for the horse feed. He tried not to notice Bertie sending him nervous glances and Thorin wondered if perhaps his and Y/N’s current behavior had exploited them somehow. He didn’t know what they would do if they were found out--

“Everything all right with you?” Bertie blurted suddenly. 

Growing more wary and turning over his shoulder to look at him, “Have I given reason otherwise?”

Bertie looked notably uncomfortable and Thorin’s guard reared up with a new hunch on what that unspoken thing was about circulating in Bertie’s mind. 

His suspicions were made true when Bertie said, “No, no. But, ah, is everything all right with you and Y/N?”

Ah, there it was.

Thorin exhaled through his nose, pinching the bridge of it. Y/N’s meddling proved to be an ever present cause of headache. He had to wonder who else that Beth woman had told since yesterday and could only pray it stopped at her husband. Thorin tried hard to reel in his anger and pride bubbling to the surface; Y/N had already apologized for her misconduct, but alas, he was made to suffer for it just a while longer and become the subject of false gossip. 

“Beth has confided in you about my personal affairs, I see.”

Bertie awkwardly cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, “Believe me, I could honestly care less, but she insisted I speak to you. Do you want to talk about it?”

Thorin tossed in the remaining hay bunches into last feeder with as much force as he dared and uttered a harsh curse in his native tongue. With his hands on his hips, he barked out a humorless laugh and shook his head. What an overwhelming amount of troublesome situations to be in! Thorin was pretending to be married, had realized he was in love and wanted desperately to bond, he had relatively sexual relations with said person he was in love with, they were now suddenly not talking and he had no clue why, and now his bedsport aptitude was being -- yet again -- thrown about the inn like dirty laundry. 

“The meddlesome nature of women is not to be trifled with. I cannot seem to escape it nor fight it off.” 

“Aye,” Bertie demurred. Thorin’s outburst, though not directed at him, gave him pause to venture any closer. “I apologize… Beth has a thing for love and helping it blossom--”

“With all due respect, she needs to learn to mind her own business.”

Bertie shuffled in place and fixed Thorin with a look.

“To be fair, your wife did divulge personal details. She could have chosen not to. That tells me that the ocean of love is a little rocky between you, if you get my meaning.” 

Oh, if only he knew! Thorin sneered internally. The farce of this little arrangement he had with Y/N was thoroughly testing his patience, and sexual willpower for that matter, and though none of what Y/N said was true, he couldn’t help but retaliate any and all attack to his honor from those it didn’t concern. That was just how he was. There was no way Bertie or Beth knew that what Y/N said was done to provoke him. 

But Mahal, help him, Y/N sure had a way to press his buttons. He was confounded and torn between wanting to storm back into the house and chastise her once again for her unacceptable behavior, and then take her to bed for a damn good seeing to, finally put that misconception to rest so that she would speak nothing about him but praise and pride.

Blasted woman. 

“Is there a reason to this discussion of ours other than to impugn my dignity? Does the whole bloody inn know? Or the village, for that matter?” Thorin spat in a voice with barely controlled patience. 

Bertie bristled at that, tolerating Thorin’s tone less and less. “Listen here, lad, I’m honoring my wife’s wishes. I don’t agree with them, but I’m being the dutiful husband in doing what was asked of me. Perhaps if you remove that stubborn stick from your backside, your wife would vent her concerns to her own husband instead of a stranger and you wouldn’t need to hear such emasculating remarks from an outside party.”

Thorin wanted to disappear. Just go back out in the words, deep in the woods, and kill something. Maybe track down that orc that was following them and rip its head off from its shoulders. Anywhere but here would be nice, thank you.

“It’s no wonder she confided in my Beth. It’s taxing speaking to you about uncomfortable matters. Clearly you don’t take confrontation or criticism very well and no one likes to walk on eggshells when they’re just trying to help.”

“I will certainly not complain to conclude such uncomfortable topics, if you care to end it,” Thorin responded tersely. 

Bertie shook his head disapprovingly and shot a hand through his graying hair. “Fine. Saves me the trouble. I honestly didn’t want to have the conversation to begin with, so you’ll be doing both of us a favor.” He stopped in the doorway and turned back around, “One married man to another; I’ll impart you with some wisdom, if I may.”

“I am listening,” Thorin sighed, wanting very desperately for this conversation and situation to come to an end.

“Falling in love is the easiest part. Keeping that love alive is the challenge -- it takes work, active work, from _both_ of you to stay in love and to remember why you fell in love in the first place. If you struggle this much communicating at the beginning, when this is the most exciting part, then later down the line when the honeymoon is over you’ll find that whatever drew you together becomes an unwelcome chore to maintain. Don’t let it come to that, Thorin. You love her; you love each other. If you wait until just the right moment or just the right time to make things right, you might mistakenly wait yourself past the point of no return. There isn’t a thing worse on this earth than regret, lad. Especially when it comes to love.”

Thorin’s anger sobered out with a whoosh from his lungs. Even though the situation was a huge misconception, there was still validity in those words that applied to Thorin at present on a different level. He _wanted_ to communicate to her. He wanted to tell her his heart and his story and give her anything she wanted from him. But there was hardly anything he could really say that wouldn't pose a threat to his oncoming quest. Not that he didn't trust her with the information, but if the wrong ears caught wind of what Y/N means to him, her life would be in danger and there would be nothing Thorin could do to stop it. He couldn't jeopardize her life like that -- he wouldn't. 

Thorin also had to remember to have patience for his hosts -- they were the ones being lied to, after all, so he couldn't blame them for trying to help. And if he wanted to have some form of a future or chance with Y/N, he would need to act now, not later.

Bertie’s hard look softened considerably when he noticed Thorin calm down. The dwarrow wasn’t used to being humbled often, but he knew when to admit his wrongdoing and Bertie’s intentions were pure with no ill will.

“Forgive me for my poor temper, Bertie. Y/N is a tender topic for me.” 

The man smiled warmly and walked over to offer an affectionate jostle on Thorin’s shoulder, “No harm done, and I understand. Wives tend to make husbands crazy -- it’s their job. But we would have them anyway, wouldn’t we?” 

“Aye… thank you for your advice.”

Thorin’s heart swelled with thoughts of Y/N, having thought those very words himself not too long ago that day. He didn't know what happened to sport this growing distance between them, but he was going to put a end to it. He was going to find out what Y/N wanted and tell her exactly how he felt to get them on equal footing. Whether or not she would reciprocate his goal, he couldn't confirm for certain, but Thorin would not  live the rest of his life in regret without giving it a shot.

With Bertie's words of encouragement floating around his head, Thorin felt hopeful. Perhaps throughout the day he could continue showing Y/N little signs of affection to warm her up to the idea of him. As he passed through the garden on his way to his other task for the day, he watched Y/N diligently working on hers; grabbing an assortment of vegetables to pile into the basket by her side. He admired the curve of her back and the way the sun shined on her hair and the gentle, fluid gestures of her arms; the sweet sound of her sighing to herself. Curled up close to the ground, she seemed so tiny and all he could think to do was wrap his arms around her in a protective hug. He refrained for now, there would be plenty of time for that later. Y/N was so focused on picking out the best pieces that she didn't notice Thorin approach or place a wildflower into her basket or hear the compliment he whispered to her in passing. 

But after multiple similar opportunities that he advanced on when given time together, her ignorance to his gestures now seemed more deliberate than not. And that was quite worrisome, as far as Thorin was concerned...  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? No cliffhangers? That's right! Just some uncertainty. 
> 
> A little shorter than most of my chapters, I know, haha. Only because I decided to change the direction a little bit from what I wanted to do and because the next part would have made this SUPER long -- sometimes I’ll write a chapter with a plan and then it’ll just sorta end up writing itself instead. Annnd since most of the next part of the story is already written, the wait shouldn’t be nearly as long for part 3. Thanks for hangin' in there!


	13. The Road Less Traveled (ThorinxReader) Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a much needed discussion, you and Thorin finally have a heart to heart to get a handle on where you both stand. And together you arrive at some amicable terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: NSFW  
> (Part 3 of 4)
> 
> Whew, this was harder to write than I thought it would be! I ended up changing quite a bit, which is why it took longer than expected -- I swear, these chapters write themselves and my fingers are just slaves. Anyhooo... Just throwing y’all right in there (kinda)! One more chapter to go!

It was unavoidable. You knew the day would lead you back here eventually, but you still hoped it would be delayed for just a while longer. You were still put off by your disappointing revelation from breakfast and did your best to divert your thoughts by focusing on your chores so you wouldn’t keep curling up with too many irrelevant what-ifs. Or thinking about “him”.  

When Thorin was done with his own chores, he, for whatever reason, decided to keep you company and offered his help, which you reluctantly had to accept after a polite decline didn’t work. Thorin was just as stubborn as you were and you didn’t want to come off as rude or give him any inkling that things weren’t sitting well with you by profusely refusing his assistance. And you did your best to remain nonchalant and indifferent even with him being so close. 

But you’d also taken notice to little curious gestures and tokens he was randomly bestowing throughout the day which only served to make the keeping him at arm’s distance even harder. If it weren’t for the fact that he was doing those things while you two were alone (not in the company of your hosts) you’d have chalked the behavior up to him just playing husband. So this brought on new questions that you wouldn’t afford yourself to dwell on. No use getting your hopes up for someone who was unavailable.

He’d given you a flower or two, innocent compliments, snacks, a drink of water, and did most of the bulk of your chores for you without asking for permission. He also helped you prepare and cook dinner. That coupled with the way he kept looking at you when he thought you weren’t noticing, and taking any and all opportunity to touch you, was equally puzzling. It was like he was struggling internally with recalling last night in his mind but was torn between keeping up respectful behavior and (dare you assume) wanting to do it again by indulging in all these niceties. Valar knew _you_ wanted to do it again. You’ve been intrigued with Thorin since the start. His beautiful naked body was ever present in your mind’s eye even at this moment, and how beautiful his blue eyes seemed to smolder their way into your soul. And now that you had a taste of his kiss, you could only imagine -- literally -- how the rest of him must taste and feel. 

As an available maiden, you had every right to fantasize and pine for round two. But Thorin?

He was a married man! There’s no way you’d be the “other woman” just to scratch his itch, no matter how bad he (or you) wanted to give in to temptation. If you were going to be together, you wanted to _be_ together, or at the very least not have any moral restraints involved to put a wedge between you while destroying a relationship. 

Nobody can help who they’re attracted to -- _nor who they fall in love with_ , you thought despairingly -- and it was only natural that the body’s, well, natural impulses got tested during a long duration of inactivity with said person of affection. Especially for males. But that was no reason for him to consider starting, or continuing, an affair!

And now, here you both were after a long, torturous day. Back in the bedroom. Both staring at the bed, hesitating from making any moves and staring at the mattress and then at each other. You couldn’t read Thorin’s mind, but all you kept thinking about was getting close and cozy and tangled up in each other with his lips on yours, picking up right where you left off; finally feeling his weight sinking down on you. Even though it was wrong. But you couldn’t help it, or the blush that appeared as you replayed the events over and quickly averted his gaze. There was a faint blush on his own face that you couldn’t help but notice. 

You cleared your throat.

“Is this too awkward because of the naked thing, or what happened last night?”

You heard him exhale, “Why would you bring that up now?”

Because I still can’t stop thinking about it and because now it’s even more erotic to me knowing you’re like a forbidden fruit that I can’t eat. “I don’t know. Because… well, you’re not saying anything.”

“And what, pray tell, do you want me to say about it?”

“I don’t know!” you frowned, suddenly feeling very stupid. 

Thorin had nothing else to add to that and you pouted in the subtle dark. A gas lamp was brought in at the bedside table to give you both more light. At its current setting, it gave off a pleasant, dim glow which was much too intimate for your taste; you didn’t want any more temptation than you already had. You reached over to adjust the switch to brighten the room more when Thorin offered you an answer. 

“Knock before entering; the bathroom door has no latch.”

Your eyes shifted over to him unsure of what to make of the statement and then you couldn’t help but chuckle, happy to have something to break the tension between you from the awkwardness and you were glad Thorin was the one to do it. His deep laughter was like a hug you didn’t know you needed and it was such a pleasant sound that you didn’t get to hear enough of.

Not wanting to repeat how badly last night resulted, you didn’t know what you were supposed to do about the bed situation now, but decided to also let Thorin set the pace for that. He seemed obliged to take the lead and getting right to the point.

“Y/N, there is something we must discuss -- about what transpired last night.”

Nodding in agreement, you let out a resigned sigh and walked over to the bed to sit down, knowing you were going to need it. Thorin paced in front of you with his hands behind his back to gather his thoughts and you watched him quietly. That same feeling of anticipation and disappointment stirred inside of you for some reason, as if hearing him admit out loud that he had wronged another would make the situation all the more real, but it needed to be said, and you also took the time to admire him in his beauty. His dark, wavy hair was cleaned and shiny from his bath before dinner, his braids were replaited to perfection, his clothes were meant for traveling in since you had nothing else pack for dinner that evening but it suited him just as well.

He hummed to himself, “Where to start?”

“I’d like to point out that I’m really sorry,” you butted in. He turned to look at you in a cross of surprise and confusion. “But I want you to know that it’s not entirely our fault, these things happen, and if there’s anything I can do to alleviate the talk you’ll need to have later, let me know.”

His strikingly blue eyes focused on yours and narrowed. “I do not follow…”

Gods, did he need you to spell it out for him? You were embarrassed enough as it is with putting yourselves in this predicament! If anything, _he_ should be the one who was more remorseful about his actions and owning up to what he did. He didn’t even sound contrite at all, which struck you as strange and unlike him given his role in all this. _He_ was the one who cheated and failed to bring up his unavailability before you got all cozy with one another. 

As a matter of fact, “To my defense, you could have pushed me away or just told me about it early on. I know you keep secrets about your life and family, but considering how we ended up and wound up doing, it wouldn’t have killed you to let me in on that aspect of your life, you know. I would have understood. And by the way, I didn’t ask you to kiss me, so you’ll have to take up at least part responsibility for your actions. But if you need my help in telling her that, I’ll do what I can. I don’t need anyone coming after me. Would you like me to maybe write a letter to take with you for wherever you’re going?”

Thorin frowned deeply and crossed his arms and damn him for that making him even more handsome as he emphasized each word, “Tell who what exactly?” 

“Thorin…” You closed your eyes. Mainly so you didn’t get sucked back into him again than out of exasperation. “You’re acting oddly cavalier for someone who had the beginnings of an affair.”

“An affair?!” 

You flinched back when Thorin stormed closer to you. The intense look he had in his eyes was quite intimidating. It was the same look he had while he was fighting and… during your throes of passion. Damn you for blushing again. He opened his mouth with an argument about to pour out, but then he thought better of it and snapped it shut. With an irked growl, he sat heavily beside you and dragged a hand over his face to squeeze at his eyes -- hard -- and rested his free hand on his knee. 

“Y/N, I am deeply confused. And there are far too many lies and misunderstandings floating about this blasted inn. I would feel immensely better if we cleared the air between us,” he said in a tired voice. 

“Okay, you first,” you nudged your elbow on his arm and waited.  

He huffed and turned to face you with a cocked brow. “Affair?” he prompted. 

“You’re married?” you prompted back.

“That is the pretense,” he gestured between you, “though with your behavior as of this morning, I wonder how convincing it will remain to our concerned hosts. For the record, when we kissed… it did not feel like an affair to me and considering my advances today, I was hoping my intentions would be clear to you.”

Your heart quickened. So that’s what all those little gestures were about. He was trying to woo you! Now you were uncertain and troubled. You knew Thorin well enough to know that he was an unfathomably loyal person and valued honor. You also knew for a fact that he found you attractive or else he wouldn’t have responded the way he did last night, but given how he reacted before you could finish the deed, it seemed entirely possible that he regretted cheating on whoever it was that he loved. But for him to answer you with such confusion and lack of care -- “it did not seem like an affair to me” echoed incredulously in your mind -- for that person was not like him at all. And to pursue you on top of that?!

“Yeah, tell that to your real wife.”

“My--” Thorin’s eyes squinted then widened as it finally clicked. “Mahal’s hammer, Y/N! I’m not--Where in the world have I given any indication of being married?”

“Because when you stopped us from--and your ring--with your behavior, I thought--wait… Wait, you’re _not_ married? Outside of,” you gestured between the two of you to demonstrate.

“No!”

Oh. You blinked a couple times, letting that sobering clarity sink in. Then a relieved bark of laughter escaped your lips and although he was glowering at you at first, it melted away and he soon was laughing right along with you and shook his head.

“I wondered what got into your head this morning to distance you so from me; of all the conclusions to jump to. You see why communicating is important?” he smirked, settling himself just a hair closer to you and giving you a very charming smirk. 

“Yes, it is,” you replied pointedly to imply that he wasn’t exactly the easiest person to talk to. Thorin gave a solemn nod, letting you know he understood. 

“I know. If I were not so combative, you may feel more open to speak your thoughts to me directly. Forgive me, I am trying to be better.” He placed a warm hand on yours and squeezed and without thinking, your fingers wove themselves into his, hoping he wouldn’t let go from your eager move. 

He didn’t.

The air between you felt so much lighter now that that whole misunderstanding was cleared up, but the relief you wanted to feel was still locked tight as you sensed there was more left unsaid that needed to be discussed and you had unanswered questions, yourself. 

“Now that we are speaking openly, I would like to be given a chance to explain myself from last night’s activities. Or rather, the reason why I stopped us from proceeding any further. But I wish to know your thoughts about something first.”

Based on his tone, you could tell that this was difficult for him, but the respect flowered in your chest when he maintained eye contact with you, even though he was struggling to find the words to start it off.

“I feel like I did kind of push you into it, last night. I was forceful and demanding, and honestly, it was because something Beth said, she gave me encouragement to--” You stopped yourself from babbling and giving away that little bit of advice she lent you and caved in on yourself, rolling your lips in nervously. You risked a glance at Thorin to see an unusual gleam in his eye.  

“We are both equally responsible for what transpired. Though, I do not mind receiving such enthusiasm from you stemming from outside encouragement. As it happens, I, too, had an interesting conversation with Bertie this afternoon,” he mused randomly. You made a humming sound to voice your acknowledgement but quirked your head in question. 

“It seems Beth had voiced your ‘concerns’ to her husband on our lack of proper bedsport.”

Your eyes widened as you put together how that interaction must have went. With Bertie approaching Thorin to talk about… about…  oh, gods! “He didn’t!” 

Thorin smirked, “Aye. He has enlightened me on something rather important, though, so I was grateful for his candor. I assumed it was the end of it until after dinner in the sitting room this evening, I was given a very thorough lecture on how to properly satisfy one’s wife from a, I believe his exact words were, ‘veteran husband with a lifetime of knowledge.’ I will spare you the details of that.” 

You buried your face in your hands to giggle, recalling how chipper Bertie was earlier after dinner pulling Thorin aside and winking at you, “Oh no! Ugh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea that awful joke would have continued to… you must have been so embarrassed because of me.” 

Thorin’s hands caressed your shoulders and his thumbs rubbed affectionate swipes back and forth as he gently turned you to face him. 

“No, Y/N, I apologize; for our altercation the other day, and for any trivial ones prior to it. Perhaps if I had not constantly expressed my doubt with you, you would not have been inclined to resort to such outrageous claims or be pushed into hiding your concerns from me before they could exploit our capricious behaviors. After I woke this morning, I had come to quite the revelation on how I felt about you and your company. I had deeply given thought to our travels these past three months and I understand that we have fought each other beyond what should have been appropriate between traveling companions.” 

“Why have we?” you wondered out loud. The question wasn’t exactly directed at him, but you still pondered just the same. 

His lips quirked up into a half grin, “I find the ‘whys’ quite irrelevant at this point in our relations. Which brings me back to my initial topic of discussion. I have thought hard all day long finding the right words, and I wish there to be no gray matter between us. And for that to happen, I must bare myself entirely before you and ask something quite personal.”

You swallowed nervously. “Yes?”

Thorin’s eyes traveled over your face with this fingertips following closely behind. He seemed reluctant and looked to you for any signs of discomfort so he would be cued to stop. When he found his touch welcome, Thorin's warm palm settled upon your cheek before he moved it to grasp your hand once more. He closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath before he reopened them with resolve.

“I have become completely and irrevocably enraptured by you and wish to deepen our relationship with one another. What do you feel for me?”

Remnants of Thorin’s false proposal story from the other night pillaged your mind. Among many irrelevant questions wondering if there was truth to them or not, you only managed a pitiful gulp in response and focused everywhere but Thorin’s face and the unexpected tenderness you saw there. Of all confessions he could have made, all the questions he could have asked, this was not one you would have ever anticipated. You half expected him to ask if it was all right to bed you, but he seemed to actually be making a full confession here and you were caught off guard. Thorin tilted your chin up to look at him with imploring eyes and a husky whisper, “Do you feel attraction only? Companionship? Love? Something deeper and unexplained... as I do?” His voice grew only lower, and you both loved and hated the drugging effect it elicited from your body.

“Thorin…” 

He drew closer, his hand sliding behind your head. 

“Can you see a future with me in it or do you wish to part ways at our journey’s end? Would you want to see me again?”

What you wanted was to answer, but a simmering heat awakened and swirled inside of you at the intimacy of his questions coupled with how sexy his baritone voice became as he asked them; rendering you incapable of proper speech and responding in gulps and swallows. His eyes were darkening at the emotions he found building in yours and subconsciously both of you were drawing closer to each other. 

“Tell me…” His whispered demand ghosted over your lips. 

You brought your hand up to sift through his short beard and felt him lean into your palm. “Make me,” you defied when you finally found your voice.

“You feel it wise to challenge me?” he retorted playfully. You felt his lips moving on yours when he asked, but he didn’t kiss you.

Fighting back the urge to be the one to instigate the kiss, you sensually slid your hands up his hard chest to tantalize him into caving in first. You could feel his restraint slipping as you made your want for him achingly apparent in your movement and voice.  

“Are you not man enough to accept?” 

He growled and pinned you down on your back, aligning your bodies on the small mattress in a swift rush, “I am not a ‘Man’, my sweetling. I am a dwarrow. And I shall take great pleasure in educating you on the grand, stark difference between the two until you crave nothing else -- _no one else_ \-- but me.” 

You wettened instantly at the possessive tone in his voice; he seemed a bit surprised by it, himself, but the look quickly passed and he swung his leg over your hip and straddled you, finally sinking his weight down while holding your hands above you in a gentle firmness and you moaned feeling the evidence of his arousal pressing into you. Straining your face up to catch his lips, he pulled away with an erotically aggressive look in his eyes that pierced you to your core. He was making it obvious who had the control here and didn’t kiss you until you understood that. 

“Educate me…” you pleaded through a whisper. 

“Will you be good and tell me what I ask of you?”

“I'll try.”

He quirked a disappointed brow. "You did not convince me. Perhaps I should stop..."

"No! I'll tell you. Only after you make me," you added cheekily.

Thorin chuckled sweetly, "I expected nothing less," at your sass and finally dipped his face down. 

Despite the lust in his words and your body’s roaring response to pounce on the man -- er, dwarrow -- and ravage his body, the kiss you shared was rather slow and amorous (but still pretty heated) instead of intense and hungry. If anything, that made it all the more erotic and meaningful. Thorin’s beard was soft as it rasped against your skin when he massaged your lips apart with open-mouthed kisses, not yet entering your mouth with his skilled tongue. 

He freed your hands to capture your jaw and used the other to support himself on his palm and Thorin groaned softly in your mouth when your hands shot out to travel up from his beard to latch on to his thick, wavy hair. The unbelievably erotic sound of him in pleasure made you moan in turn and when he rolled his hips, you were easily and willingly at his mercy.

Thorin worked your lips until they felt swollen and then traveled down your jawline and neck leaving wet kisses behind, sending you delightful shivers up your spine that had you clawing at his back and arching your hips instinctively in search of his. Thorin’s arousal was obvious as he pressed himself into you, holding you down by your hips using his own. His wicked mouth ventured back up the column of your neck until he reached your ear. 

“Tell me what you feel for me,” he demanded again before giving your lobe a chaste nibble. With nervous, shaking hands, you reached up to undo the ties of his tunic while simultaneously pulling him back to your lips.

“I’ll show you,” you managed in between steadily growing kisses.

As soon as the top of his chest became undone, Thorin pulled away from you panting and regarding you curiously. The swirls of his chest hair were visible from the open V in his tunic and you ran your fingers through them; he hummed appreciatively, arching his chest into your hand to encourage further exploration. Your heart melted into an affectionate goo feeling how hard and fast his heart was pumping beneath your wandering palm.

Your own chest was heaving in large breaths as your heart raced wildly inside of it. You could feel something pulling you towards Thorin that you couldn't quite define, and you were still scared of spooking him again by taking control and weren't sure how far he would allow you to go this time. He seemed content to feel your hands exploring him and you worked up some courage with more kissing.

With a small, “Wait…” Thorin stilled your wrist when you went to reach for his trousers when it was obvious where you intended to lead. 

You flopped your head back into the pillow and made a disappointed sound.

“What you want from me, I cannot give you now,” he explained with obvious restraint. Before your face could mold into a crestfallen expression from receiving yet another denial, he planted a passionate kiss upon your lips to shut those thoughts out, and it worked. While you stared at him momentarily dazed, he added the additional details he intended to say that you otherwise might have shut down again. 

“Worry not, there are other ways for us to partake in our desires.”

You quirked a brow, inviting him to continue and felt pleased that he still wanted to keep going, even though you were still curious why he didn’t want to go all the way. The most you got from his conversation -- before both of you got caught up in each other-- was that he wanted to know how you felt about him, which you fully intended to tell him once the flow of conversation was proper. Perhaps you both were on the same thought process; he wanted more than a one time fling and was probably wanting you to confirm that; actions tend to speak louder than words, but you definitely had to work your interest in there verbally soon. Especially since the both of your were making such progress. 

Thorin traced the contours of your face with a calloused hand that felt a lot like worn leather; each trail mark leaving tingles in his touch's wake.

“Like what?” you asked. 

Thorin smirked wickedly, eyes glittering and darkening along with it. “Come now, you are an imaginative lass. I am sure we can come up with something enticing. I know it is not the same thing, but I see no harm in sharing our pleasure together in other ways, if you are agreeable? I admit that the mere thought of seeing you coming undone right in front of my eyes as you pleasure yourself hardens me to solid stone, for one.”

As if to illustrate his point, he didn’t bother hiding his attempt at rearranging himself; the massive bulge was left very present behind his trousers.

“You mean masturbate in front of each other?” you blushed. 

“Yes,” he purred. “If you wish it.”

More heat rose throughout your body in response but you pursed your lips and frowned in thought. It wasn’t exactly what you hoped for but you were surprised and impressed with his level of self-control and just a hair embarrassed by your lack of it. If you had it your way, you’d have jumped his bones already. Though, it would be kind of hot to watch Thorin work himself in front of you until he came undone, too. Thorin pulled away to review your reaction to his proposal and you offered a lopsided grin.

“You’re the most chivalrous, honorable person I’ve ever met. I don’t know if that’s a comfort or an insult considering the circumstances. But I still don’t understand why you don’t want to have sex with me. Is it... me?”

Thorin hesitated before dismounting you and layed next to you. He then took your hand in his and threaded your fingers together as he regarded you seriously. His dark hair curtained the sides of his face, framing his handsome, masculine features; you tucked some of it behind his back to see him better. He smelled so damned good... it was nice being encompassed by his intoxicating scent. If it weren’t for the soulful way he was gazing down at you, you would have been self-conscious of his constant restraint.  

“No, my jewel. Never think that.” He paused to plant a lingering kiss on your forehead, as tender as his tone. “In attempt to alleviate any incorrect assumptions, I will tell you why I stopped last night and why we cannot go further now: to put simply, it is not proper; we are not a married couple. However--”

“And the complicated version?” you ventured with an inward wince as a shadow passed over his face. You didn’t mean to interrupt him or the sweet moment you were sharing, but you wanted answers. Solid ones. Thorin exhaled slowly and extracted himself from you as he sat back. You rolled over to better face him, placing a comforting hand on his chest. 

“There are secrets I keep that are not meant for you to know -- not yet. I would tell you every scrap of detail if I could, but it is not just for my safety, it is for yours. You must understand that.” 

He must have mistaken the look of concentration you had on trying to fathom what in the world could be so dangerous about his life or his quest as doubt and likely thought you took his answer as another rejection. Thorin abandoned the short distance between you to roll you back on your back and mounted you once more, though it was not overtly sexual in nature. He captured your face to force your lowering stare to look at him once more and gave a quick kiss of reassurance.

“Y/N, make no mistake. I want to give you my heart -- my body -- and tell you my story, but now is not the time. Do not doubt how much I want you." To emphasize, he rolled his hardness right where you wanted him most and bit back a moan. "Do you feel that? I crave you with a fierceness that terrifies me to my bones. If I am to be blunt--” He struggled for a moment, only gaining strength to continue when you placed your hands over his. “If it were by my will alone, I would make love to you and take you as my own right this instant, in this very bed, until we are lost to our passion and I have to carry you all the way to the Shire. I would wed our souls this day by binding together and joining as one, if I were able. I ache for you, Y/N. Deep in my soul.” 

He brought up a closed fist into his chest and struck it to emphasize, in his own way, the additional sincerity behind his words. 

Your mouth parted as lust filled your heart and body at such an intimate, erotic declaration. You now believed he would follow through on this words, if he could; his body was certainly ready to carry out the task. He you leaned closer until your foreheads pressed together and warmth bloomed in your chest. Thorin was taking deep, controlled breaths. The powerful moment and the seriousness it carried summoned by his confession was not lost on either of you and your heart was pumping.  

“Thorin, what’re you saying?” You knew exactly what he was saying, but you needed to hear it out loud.

“I am saying I would take you as my chosen One… I have fallen in love with you and it would bring me great honor to be your suitor, if you would have me,” Thorin admitted quietly, causing your heart to stop. Although he started off with a strengthened voice full of purpose, he continued on with growing reluctance, “But I cannot offer you a suitable courting or marriage yet, and thus, we cannot truly consummate our love without some restrictions involved--” he paused to chuckle dryly “--Valar above, how can I propose such a special, sacred thing of you so selfishly when I cannot even offer a proper courtship. You must think me mad.” 

You jerked up instantly and he stared at you with pained eyes before his expression slipped into sad frown. By the hurt look on his face, he mistook your hopeful reaction for rejection.

“Had I misinterpreted...? Am I truly so selfish?” he asked roughly. You grabbed for him before he pulled himself away.

“No! No, I’m--I’m just surprised. You really want to enter a courtship with me?” This was so much to take in. For every uncertainty that was answered, it only served to open up three more mysteries, it seemed. Not to mention that he wasn’t willing to give you any straight answers you kept pressing him for. But nonetheless, this was not an opportunity you were going to waste.

“Aye. That was, for the most part, why our passion was so short-lived last night. I did not want you to believe for an instant that what we shared would be only a one time occurrence, if you did not wish it to be. What are your thoughts of my intentions with you? I seem to have failed our challenge at ripping your own feelings of me from you,” Thorin added with a nervous smile.

You bit your lip shyly as you studied him consideringly. Your mind took you back in time to the day you first met him and all the events that led you both through this journey, then all the way up to the gestures he did for you today. You couldn’t have wanted anything -- or anyone -- else, all things considered. Thorin was for the first time ever truly making himself vulnerable in front of you by bearing his heart and soul. Sex aside, that was more than you could have asked for in terms of coming together. 

“Are you still asking? Because if so, I’m going to say yes, I’d love it if you were my suitor.” 

Thorin's nervousness disappeared instantly with a smile. It grew wider until his white teeth showed before pulling you towards him into another affectionate forehead tap. After, he started pressing kisses into your neck and hair while whispering sweet nothings to you in his joy on how happy and fortunate he was. Not to be outdone, you let your hands roam the broad expanse of his back, drifting them up into his thick hair and kissing the side of his head; down, down, until you reached his lips to offer him some affections of your own, sharing your happiness in this new union formed between you. It started off as a sweet kiss, but it didn’t stay that way, as mating heat starting to rapidly build back up between you as both of you tried, playfully, to outperform the other. 

“Will it bother you that we cannot have sex?” Thorin asked.

“But we’re courting now, why can’t we?”  

He furrowed his brow in thought and considered his next words carefully. Just because you were courting now, you didn’t expect that to miraculously make it so that Thorin’s business was now suddenly your business, but it still didn’t irk you any less that he couldn’t tell you _anything_ at all. If he couldn’t paint you the full picture, fine, but couldn’t he spare you at least a blurry watercolor version of it? You just wanted to understand better, is all. Especially since all the secrecy has led you both rather astray on more than one account on both fortuitous and unfortunate outcomes. But it was hard when everything about him was shrouded in mystery and honestly, you were getting a little worried by it. Would he ever tell you? 

“Again there is a vast amount I want to say, but it is complicated. Apart from maintaining some sense of honor and virtue on your behalf -- do not look at me like that, I am trying to be a respectable gentleman and you are making it nigh on impossible--” He gave your cheek a loving jostle before he continued, “My other, and rather more prominent, concern is that I cannot risk getting you pregnant. If something happened to me while we were apart, it would not be fair to you or the babe; I could not bear the thought or stress of leaving you alone with child. More importantly, I would want to be there for the birth of it and provide for you both like a proper lover and father, and that is not something that can be guaranteed.”

Ah, well, there’s that then. 

Your heart both warmed at his concern and grew cold by his implication. His journey beyond the Shire was implied that he expected it to be a dangerous one. One that even given his impeccable aptitude for battle asserted a sense of potential failure in its outcome. Moreover, the quest was a hard secret that even Gandalf, who you guessed would be traveling with him, felt fit not to divulge to you. And although Thorin had expressed his true feelings for how he felt about you enough to where you’re now courting, his loyalty to his quest had placed a high importance on it that you didn’t deem proper to get upset about. Especially because he wanted to share the details with you, but he was keeping his word so as to keep you safe. Given all that you didn’t know, you couldn’t fully understand but you still believed him. 

Considering your travels with Thorin and all you shared together, you were beginning to comprehend his actions and thought process a lot better. He wasn’t being secretive or evasive because he didn’t trust you. He was doing this to protect you, because he cared and loved you. Gods, he said he was in love with you and now you were courting! Who would have thought... 

You couldn’t help but chuckle. Despite him being very much aroused and driven mad with lust, he was still thinking of you and taking your sexual desires into consideration despite his burning need to claim you as his. But as it was the heat of the moment, your body had other plans. And it wanted him. 

“Think I can’t keep us in line, huh? You underestimate my prowess,” you smirked.

“And you know nothing of the possessive blood that flows through my veins. I know I will not want to stop, and I might not be able to stop myself once I’m… inside,” he ground out, the intensity of his stare burning into your eyes. “As we are now courting, we can do anything else, though I would still like to limit it if we can, lest I lose myself.”

“What if I want you to lose yourself?” You gave his thigh a solicitous stroke and he inhaled sharply.

“Y/N… please, I beg you, have mercy.” He closed his eyes tight and bowed his head in obvious struggle when you drifted it closer to his throbbing erection, just shy of fully cupping him.

Though the urge to merge was there and in the air, you thought maybe it was for the best. For one thing, he was much larger than you would have anticipated and it had been so long since you had taken a lover. And for another, pregnancy wasn’t exactly on your To-Do list, so he had a valid point. If he didn’t survive whatever excursion he was embarking on and you ended up with his child, it would not only contain mixed blood, but would have been born out of wedlock, your courtship be damned. The hardships he or she would endure with that alone, without a father, wouldn’t be fair. And if Thorin truly was royalty, that was even more cause of pause. 

While you were lost in your thoughts you heard him take a deep, heaving sigh through his nose and from beneath his chest you felt his heart hammering wildly as he cursed. 

“Am I playing the fool’s part making these demands?” he questioned. “This is asking so much of you when offering so little in return, I understand. But you shall hold all the cards just the same. If you do not wish to proceed with any sexual relations until after I return, then I will abide your decision and will stop immediately.”

“No. Damn you for your sound logic and reasoning, but no -- you’re right. Gods, Thorin… I just want you. I’ve never felt so attracted and enthralled to anybody before. I want to be with you any way we can.” 

He clutched the back of your neck and feathered his lips across yours.

“As do I… Mahal, as do I! Please, let me do right by you -- by us. Let us be together in this way. Are you agreeable to my terms, my jewel?” he whispered, stroking your face.

“What are the lengths of these restrictions?” you pouted.

Thorin smirked and brushed a strand of your hair away, “Anything goes, aside for intercourse, sweetling. I still would like to see you come undone by your own hand, but if you would prefer to see where the night takes us, I would not be opposed.” 

“So, does this mean I can still kiss you?” you flirted, leaning your face closer to his. 

Thorin eagerly nuzzled your nose with his, “I encourage you to kiss me until my lips are scorched. I may not be able to claim you where I so desperately want to be, but I can claim your mouth, among… other things. What say you?” he finished roughly, looking like he was one right answer away from jumping your bones.

“What’re you waiting for?” came your reply.  

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Your head hit the pillow from the force of Thorin’s possessive kiss instantly. Your core practically dripped at the feel of the rest of Thorin settling on top of you, straddling your hips with his powerful legs as he took full charge. His large hands roamed and mapped your body, gliding in some places, squeezing in others. You melted at each touch of his lips and hands and wondered if this was anything what heaven felt like. 

“We--we need to go slowly. You excite me far too much, far too fast. I have a relatively level head now, but all that can change if--” The rest of that sentence was lost in a growl of a dwarvish curse, you assumed. “You are a wicked girl.”

You smiled up at him innocently, wrapping your legs around his hips and grinding yourself into the head of his arousal a second time had him shuddering. You quite enjoyed the sight of him like this. Thorin, fully aroused, his dark mane of hair loose and lovingly disheveled, looking majestically wild and powerful hovering above you. And he was all yours.

Pleasure spiked in your blood when he dove his face into the crook of your neck, kissing, biting, leaving his beard rash along your skin in the wake of his lips. You started to feel something inside of you come to life in response to Thorin's touch. Almost as if your spirit were trying to entangle with his as your physical bodies were. Somehow, you knew it meant that you had to get closer to him even more intimately. 

“Thorin?” 

“Mm?” he rumbled distractedly, keeping his mouth busy on you. 

“Can we touch each other while we're... bare? I want to make you come.” 

He stilled for a moment and lifted his head to gaze deep in your eyes, breathing hard, beads of sweat lined on his brow from his arousal and exertion. Something about his expression unnerved you along with the feeling of another flutter of that odd hum coursing through your blood. In an strange sort of way, you were feeling as though you were being tied to him and it felt almost otherworldly. Yes, it felt special, pivotal, significant. And you knew it was the right thing, with the right person. 

That same sense of importance was found in his darkened eyes.“Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”

“Yes.”

“There will be no going back--” You silenced him with a hard kiss to which he eagerly responded. 

“I’m sure. Gods, I am _so_ sure.” With that, you grabbed his face and crashed your lips back to his. 

 

* * *

 

Thorin had never known bliss such as this. The two of them had avidly shed their clothing in a blinding rush and Thorin gazed upon his lass with fierce devotion and need. The hum he felt in his veins had nothing to do with his bobbing, leaking erection or need to be buried deep inside. It signified that in their act of intimacy, Thorin would be forever changed; he would be Taken in one of the most sacred ways of his people. Y/N was his now; everything from his soul, heart, and body was hers to wield. The final act to solidify the imprint would be to mark her with his release, but for that glorifying moment, they would need to wait until after he reclaimed Erebor -- as if he needed an additional reason to hurry up with it. 

For now, however, Thorin was content to give her the satisfaction and release she craved and would willingly surrender himself to her touch. Mahal knew he wouldn’t be lasting very long. He kept his tunic nearby to use when he finally came and focused on his lass by kissing his way down her flushed body until he got into the juncture between her legs.

Glistening like a jewel for him, Thorin dove his mouth on her -- slowly. Taking his time in taking her apart. She writhed against him undulating like a wave, but he held her steady to help her ride it out. He pushed his long tongue inside her silken folds and became unhinged in her taste, feel, and incredibly appealing response to him. He held back a snicker at her jesting comment from the other day that she told to Beth, reestablishing his confidence in bedsport. 

The sounds she made! Valar above, the _sounds…_ It’s safe to say that these walls were thin enough so that nobody in this establishment would dare question Thorin’s lack of proper bedsport again. 

 _Keep going, my love_ , he thought to her. **_Louder_** _. Let them hear how well I please you!_

With a grunt and quick snatch of the tunic, Thorin thrust the material under him while his mouth lovingly worked his lover to ruin and wadded it up to rut against the mattress. With how sexed up Thorin was, he was thrusting hard. Hard enough that the bed shook at each push and pull of his efforts. He looked up at his lover, hoping to see her back arched so he could watch her breasts bouncing in tandem with their movement, but was just as pleased to see Y/N looking down at him, mouth parted, panting deeply, pupils blown from the last two orgasms he gave her.

As he continued grinding his cock into the tunic, his tongue also pushed further into her body in the same manner, effectively pushing her up and back against the pillows just as would happen if he took her the way he wanted. The bed was creaking in protest and Y/N’s lips turned up in a smirk.

“You’re going to break the bed if you keep at it like that,” she rumbled deeply. Thorin quite liked hearing her voice hoarse, post-orgasm. 

Thorin gave another hard, deliberate thrust and tsked at the strain in the wood frame slamming into the wall. “Flimsy Man-made craftsmanship. Our bed will be much more suitable for our nightly adventures.”

He increased his efforts, eyes never leaving hers. He had to see her eyes when he came. She dutifully rewarded him when he slanted his mouth just so and applied some suction.

“They’ll… hear!” Y/N mewled with a pleased smile when he sucked her clit between his lips. 

“Good. Let them hear. And let this be a lesson to you as well for spreading such lies. 'Just all right', my arse.”

He felt a tug on his hair when he nuzzled his nose into his love’s sensitive, molten flesh, and heard her giggle at his implication. She kept tugging until he climbed over her to claim her lips. His cock was angling itself into her slick heat and they both gasped when his hips dipped down to rub his length between it. From feasting on her and using his tunic for friction, he was close to bursting and needed to pull away; teetering on the threshold of obeying his body’s command and adhering to his code of honor on Y/N’s behalf was a decision he had to make like, now. He could only hope that she couldn’t feel him shaking, so he distracted her with his lips on hers, biting her bottom lip gently before he pulled his body away from the temptation. 

“Y/N… I am so close. I want you to finish me.”

He was intrigued by that wicked smile she sported, and only a tad terrified as to what it could possibly entail.

“On your back,” she commanded. Slinging his arms around her, he pivoted them around so she straddled him on top. 

It nearly killed him to say this, especially because he was hoping it wouldn’t ruin the mood, but her heat was laying flush on his sex again and the lad was practically doing push ups just to wiggle its way inside. And she was _grinding_ on it, Mahal help him!

“Fuck,” Thorin groaned weakly. “We--careful, I cannot finish inside of you.” 

“Yes, you can.” With a moan that jerked his hips up, Y/N slicked her release all over him. His powerful hands gripped on her hips, prepared to fling her off before it was too late. A throaty sigh gave way to a long, deep moan when she dripped on him. 

“ _Oh, Y/N…_ do not torment me like this, I’m--I’m going to burst--”

Y/N lifting her hips off of him was both a blessing and a curse and he slumped back in a grunt. He felt too barren without feeling her so close to him and still his cock strained for her, throbbing in the air like a hungry hand reaching for food. Never had Thorin been at someone’s mercy like this before. It was jarring for him, but exciting in its submissive purpose; he enjoyed handing Y/N power over him to do as she wished with his pleasure, within their boundaries. But he couldn’t help but feel that small bit of fear in his own loss of control, knowing he could easily overpower her if things got out of hand.

“Trust me,” she whispered. “You can finish inside me, just as I intend to finish inside your mouth.”

“Y/N--”

“ _Trust me._ ”

Momentarily confused at how in Middle Earth such a thing could be possible, his head fell back in a grin along with a loud, long groan when it finally clicked. She was brilliant. Utterly brilliant. And she was probably going to be the death of him -- which, considering how close he's come to it in the past through war and battle, was a much more preferable, enticing outcome than he could ever hope for. Y/N had turned around on his body so her back was facing him and then slowly backed up so that her mouth was over his reddened cock and her sex lingered just above his face. She twisted her head around to look at him, offering a silent message, and with a knowing smirk his hands latched on to her hips and pulled her down to him once more.

 _You tantalizingly brilliant woman!_  

Y/N wasted no time in following suit in swallowing him down -- Thorin grunted against her, bucking straight up into her mouth. It became a sort of race between them, suckling, licking, kissing each other in their most intimate places to see who would burst first. Thorin couldn’t help it when his hips began to pump freely of their own accord, driving his cock deeper and faster into Y/N’s mouth. He was worried about choking her, but was relieved of such concerns when she had kept a hand to grip him at his base to allow him dominion over her mouth and he happily lapped up her juices with each pulsing orgasm he -- very satisfyingly -- ripped from her. When she moaned on his cock, he felt it reverberate everywhere. They moaned and mewled into each other’s flesh as ecstasy flooded through their blood in maddening bursts of pleasure building higher and higher. 

He was getting close. He wanted to tell Y/N, or warn her, as he felt the tell-tale sign of him hardening to steel and his stones clenching up ready to unload his spend, but he couldn’t part his mouth from her core because he was feeling her tell-tale signs of her orgasm building and he wanted to get her there first. He let his moans, which grew in both pitch and frequency, speak for him instead. Y/N seemed to have understood, and she pulled away from him just long enough to moan through her latest release, “ _Come in me._ ” before shoving him as deep in her throat as she could and brought him to the point of no return. 

And when Thorin finally came, he swore he saw stars. A deep, resonating moan pitched out of his chest as his head drove back into the pillow and his hips stuttered against his lover’s lips. A taste of what his soul wanted to share with Y/N had him spurting longer than he expected. He tried to pull away, concerned it was too much, but Y/N held him in place, drinking him down -- and wasn’t that just the most naughty, erotic thing ever. 

When Y/N released his sex, he slid limp and spent from her lips and felt her collapsed on him; both panting like dogs. With arms fizzling like fireworks, he gingerly lifted her bottom half up and over and started to pull lightly towards him. 

“Come to my arms, Amralime.”

A calm, blissful quiet filled the room after she crawled her way into his arms -- fitting inside perfectly, as far as he was concerned -- and for the first time in his life, Thorin felt whole. 

 

* * *

 

“What happens now?” you asked.

After a much needed, and highly satisfying, experience with your former button-pushing traveling companion and now new suitor, you both lay wrapped in the quilt on the bed for aftermath cuddles. On your insistence, Thorin left his shirt off to sleep bare chested and your innocent caressing of his chest hair (and the occasional nipple tweaking) had somehow led to another round of intense oral sex until you both were much too exhausted to continue further, lest you wake the entire inn if you haven't already. You twirled Thorin’s long braid between your fingers as his own raked lovingly through your locks to massage your scalp. You sighed contently at his calming, attentive touch. 

His deep voice rumbled a noncommittal noise. You liked the way it sounded with your head on his chest. You guessed he was mulling over the obvious: you’d continue on to the Shire as planned and then you would part ways. The only main unknown is the duration of this period. But him not answering right away was already a bad sign. 

“How long will it last?” you asked. 

You felt him kiss the top of your head and murmur in your hair distantly, “A year. Likely more, and I will not be able to keep in contact with you during my travels.”

You held back your wince. No Thorin for an entire year? No hearing from him at all? An unmistakable dread crept into your being, as if a part of you would be leaving with him and you felt empty. You heard his heart increase in speed during your silence and his hand stopped its ministrations in your hair. He swallowed twice before speaking again. 

“I… I would understand if you would wish to end our courtship and resume when I return. I have asked so much of you already, that asking to wait for me for an unknown time frame seems almost cruel.” 

“No!” Your face leaped up to look at him, wide eyed with panic that he would even suggest ending your courtship so soon after starting. His brows creased as if he were trying hard to keep himself composed, but the faint glitter of tears in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you, or the flooded relief and hope in them that about broke your heart. You brought up a hand to cup his bearded cheek. “How could you even think that? No, I’ll wait for you, Thorin. I don’t care how long it takes, but we’ll figure this out together. _I love you_ \-- no amount of time or distance will change that or how right this feels between us. Besides, after being properly educated on dwarven lovers, how could I ever want anything else?”

“You love me,” he echoed in reverence. 

"I do. Very much."

"Since when?" 

You smiled at his thirst for reassurance, “As far as my heart is concerned, I’ve loved you for quite a long while now, it just feels… more distinct now. Like a part of me was given to you, and… I don’t know how to describe it but I feel like a part of you is inside my heart or soul. I know that probably makes no sense at all, but after we, er, _came_ together, I felt attached to you--”

Before you knew what was happening, your face was pulled forward to meet Thorin’s lips in a sort of desperate kiss that you were more than happy to oblige. He breathed raggedly through his nose as your mouths fused together and he held you in place by your hair. He kissed you into a drunken stupor before pulling away.

“You felt the bond,” he sighed, elated. 

“The what?” 

His eyes were all aglow and it filled you with such light and happiness in response to his joy. “It is the most sacred experience for my people when they find their chosen Ones. A piece of our soul is exchanged during intimacy, usually from having sex, and becomes immortalized in the other’s souls, binding them together as one essence.”

“But we didn’t have sex… how could we have bonded?” you frowned. 

“We are partially bonded, in technical terms. It derives from intimacy and reaching satisfaction within your lover, but the actual fortified bonding is done with sex. It is more a spiritual notion than anything, but quite powerful from what I’ve heard -- and thus experienced firsthand. Does Man not bond with their beloved?”

You snuggled into him and held him close, feeling entirely whole with him right here next to you as you took it all in. The more you thought about it, the more grateful and sane you felt that this was an actual, metaphysical thing happening to both of you. Like magic. “Not even close, but I’m really happy that the first and hopefully only time that I was able to experience it was with you.”

Thorin’s arms circled around you and he pressed another kiss on the top of your head. “I concur. Would you think me a fool if I were to make a hasty request so soon after such ardent outpourings?” 

Your fingers lightly scratched through his coarse chest hair and you kissed him under his jaw. “Of course not. What is it?”

“When my quest concludes, will you have me as your husband?”  

You blinked up at him, wondering if you heard him right. The determined look on his face confirmed your suspicions. “But--but what about the courting traditions? There's so much time to make up for when you come back.” 

“Bond or no, I know in my heart that you are my life mate. I will not have another for my wife if it is not you,” he said resolutely.

Your heart hammered in your chest in conflicting emotions. Courting him was one thing, (bonding was an entirely different, new, wonderful phenomenon you still were trying to wrap your head around) but what he was asking you was quite a lot given the circumstances. For one, there were so many things about him that you knew nothing about. Sure, you knew his character, his personality, how his mind worked, what his body was like, and how amazing he was in bed. Aside from getting along with him over the course of a few months, was that enough to base a future off of? Could you marry Thorin and look past all the secrets? Or put such blind trust in him for something you only vowed you’d ever do once? Just who _was_ he?

Gandalf’s words from months ago echoed into your head, almost long forgotten: “He’s not your run of the mill dwarf.” That couldn’t have proved to be more true. You leaned back a bit, slipping your hand from his chest and rolling over slightly, so that you could prop yourself up on your elbow to look at him while you gathered your thoughts. His eyes were focused intently on you.

“Your name isn’t Fundinson, is it?”

“No.”

He registered the true meaning as to why you asked that question and a sad expression grew behind his striking blue eyes. He tentatively reached for your hand, as if he feared you’d deny him, and sighed in relief when you eagerly responded and scooted closer to hold your smaller hand against his warm chest.

“Look, I know you can’t tell me everything, but I can’t agree to marry you if I don’t even know the name I’ll be taking on.”

He stilled his actions and deeply considered that.

“If that is the only truth you require, you would agree to marry me?” he ventured full of hope. There it was again. That pull he had on you. Be it his deep, beautiful, baritone voice, the smitten twinkle in his bright blue eyes, the deep “bonding” connection you felt during intimacy even without sex being involved, or the fact that Thorin had basically asked you to marry him -- twice. In your heart, you wanted desperately to cave in to him, but you still had to set some rules of your own that you felt were well-warranted. 

“There’s conditions,” you admitted after a beat of silence. Thorin tilted his head to the side as invitation to hear them. “I have no intention of breaking off our courtship, but can you tell me anything at all about yourself? If not, then at the very least, when your quest is over, will you promise to finally tell me everything you’ve hidden away? I don’t know anything about you or where you come from; what you tattoo means, if you have brothers or sisters, or about your family in general… nothing. As soon as I know what all this secrecy was about, then I will agree to marry you. We can even spend the rest of our excursion learning about me and my background, just so we meet again on equal footing.”

Thorin’s eyes were set before you even finished. He spoke to you in his native tongue and nodded, “You have my word. When my quest is over, I will reveal everything. More than that: I will show you.” His smile was full of pride and promise. Then he took a breath. 

“My name… is Thrainson. Thorin Thrainson. I am also known as Thorin Oakenshield.” 

That name didn’t ring any bells as you expected, but you did recall him carrying that odd piece of oak with him that he had used as a shield from time to time. You expected that to be the only thing he would grant you, but to your amazement, he gave you more. Using your hand, he gave it a kiss and traced the unique patterns of ink on his right breast.

“These tattoos are memorials for my grandfather and brother, who both died in battle. My beard used to be longer, but I cut it to mourn them. I have a living sister who annoys me to my wits end -- I have a feeling you two will get along very well -- and I have some skill with the harp. I cannot go into detail about too many things, but as we progress to the Shire, I will also share pieces of myself with you. Will that suffice?”

The fact that Thorin was entrusting you with something (anything) personal about himself had made it all the more precious to you. That was how you knew that you could go through with this with him and, for the most part, didn’t have anything to fear about any of this.

“The harp, really?” you asked, relaxing into him further. He let out a contented sigh and held you closer, stroking your hair. 

“Aye. I have dabbled.” 

“I’d love to hear you play. I didn’t know you were musically inclined.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Would you like me to sing to you?”

“Please.”

After a kiss to your forehead, you were soon drifting off to sleep by the deep, baritone tenors and vibrato of a dwarvish lullaby by your lover’s incredible singing voice. 

You were able to manage a quiet, “I love you” to him before you finally passed out. 

 

* * *

 

After you both had paid your dues and flushed scarlet by the pleased, knowing looks of your inn hosts at Thorin’s and yours successful tangle, and after a sad, bittersweet goodbye from Beth and Bertie who had grown quite fond of you both during your stay, Thorin and you embarked on your way to the Shire. As it was getting chilly out, he basically ordered that you take his cloak which you found it hard to argue after he said he wanted it to smell like you when you handed it back. You were only about an hour away from the inn when you noticed...

“Uh, Thorin?” You tried to stifle your giggles as you held up the item from your pocket.

“You have got to be joking…”

As it turned out, Thorin’s coin purse (much like like what happened from Bertie’s story) was in his cloak’s pocket the entire time you stayed there. You didn’t notice it because Beth had taken them away to dry after you came in from the rain.

Thorin easily caught the bag when you tossed it to him and you erupted into hearty laughter at the silly coincidence of what transpired and how strikingly similar it was.

“Beth would just die if she ever found out,” you wiped a few tears from your eyes as you calmed yourself. 

“As nice as they were, I would prefer our business to remain our own from here on.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be our secret, honey bum,” you winked. 

Thorin rolled his eyes affectionately but smiled nonetheless.

The rest of your travels to the Shire was met rather peacefully. You and Thorin didn’t give in to any carnal urges, but you did share kisses and hand holding and cuddling at every opportunity as you told him about yourself, where you came from, what your favorite foods were, what your job occupation is. He drank your stories and descriptions in with rapt interest and offered small details of himself to you in return he was willing to spare. 

As he was feeling extra protective given his station in your relationship, he decided that it would be best if you guided him to the borders of the Shire and instruct him how to find Bilbo’s house from there so no one would see you arrive together. When asked about how you were to be paid, you told him that Gandalf could have one of the hobbits deliver it to the nearest pub, which is where you planned on staying for the time being. 

And as your final destination grew close, your hearts grew heavier. You could feel the distance in your heart growing already but tried your best to stay strong. When the rolling hills finally came to view, you’d given Thorin back his cloak and he put the hood up to shield himself from view and took your hand the remainder of the way. It was quite dark now but there were torches to light your way when you reached Hobbiton.

Both of you stopped for a few minutes in silence just glancing ahead, neither wanting to part. 

Thorin hummed through his nose and then gestured for you to face him. “There is something I would like you to have.”

“Oh?”

The sound of crickets chirping filled in the silence and your eyes roamed over Thorin’s appearance to commit to memory as best you could -- thank gods for your great photogenic memory; you were going to need it. You couldn’t believe the time has come to finally part. You weren’t sure if you could do this… you weren’t ready. While he was busy, you swallowed back a few tears, hoping he wouldn’t notice. 

Thorin extended a closed fist towards you after he dug into a hidden pocket and dropped a silver bead into your waiting hand. Upon closer examination, you saw that it matched the beads he was currently wearing on his braids, just with very minor differences. 

“In my culture,” he explained, tugging free a portion of your hair in his fingers. “When we assent a courtship, we place a courting braid in our love’s hair to establish they are unavailable, and by whom they are taken by in accordance of the bead’s family line. For reasons I cannot yet explain, I will not be able to plait your hair with it; if the wrong person were to see--”

Not trusting your voice, you waved your hand through the air to imply that you understood where he was going. He nodded and closed your hand over the bead. 

“I wanted you to have this as my promise that when the day comes and my quest has met its end, I will call for you.”

“It’s beautiful… I wish I had something to give you in return.”

“A heartfelt gesture, but no need. This was my proud duty as your suitor and at the first opportunity, I will braid your hair into a worthy plait befitting my betrothed.”

You smiled at his confidence and then down at the bead a moment longer before tucking it away in your sash to keep it hidden and safe. You wanted to part Thorin with a gift of your own to take with him, but didn’t have anything nearly as meaningful as that. Thorin didn’t seem to be expecting anything in return and only pulled you close for a lingering, tight embrace. 

You buried your face in his hair and inhaled his scent deep into your lungs, already missing the way it smells and feels. He had told you how highly maintained beard and hair care was for dwarves, which had in turn made you step your game up during your travel. That spurred an idea. 

“Actually, I do have something to give you.” 

You retrieved a hidden blade from your person and quickly cut off a fair chunk off the bottom of your hair, much to Thorin’s sudden horror. Finding a spare hair ribbon that you used for tying it up, you quickly tied the lock of hairs together and handed it over to a very stunned Thorin. He accepted your gift with both of his hands, as if your hair were a gift from the gods.

“I am honored more than you know…” his voice wavered. He delicately traced his fingertips over the lock and brought it up to his lips. “You know not how sacred a gift this is to give to a dwarrow; I will forever treasure it. I love you.”

He pulled you in for another hug and ended it with your last passionate kiss of farewell. You wanted it to go on forever and fought for minutes, _seconds_ , anything, to keep Thorin in your arms as long as you could. You could sense the same pressing urgency from Thorin’s side in the way that he kissed you, his strong hands roaming all over as if to relish your touch and keep it fresh in memory.

When you finally broke apart gasping for air, your cheeks were wet with tears and your bottom lip trembled as you fought back the sobs. Thorin was much more composed even though he was equally upset about the goodbye and quickly thumbed your tears away.

“Where will you be when I am able to send for you?” he asked. 

You informed him of the cycle of different towns that you tended to travel through as work permitted and he made a note of them. You in turn reminded him how to find Bilbo Baggins’ house and he had mentioned that Gandalf had previously informed him how to find it by searching for the mark he placed on the door. 

He pressed his forehead affectionately against yours one last time and with a parting, “Until we meet again.” you watched your love head off to start his secret quest until well after he disappeared, and even still after that. 

Your whispered words drifted away in a breeze, “I’ll be waiting…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, you'll get your well-awaited smut in the next part. As much as I love writing those spicy bits, I wanted to save the more detailed, descriptive sex scene for when you both reunited while keeping your first sexual interaction more subdued in this chapter, as I felt the actual smut should be an especially monumental moment between you given all the hell you were put through to get to that point.
> 
> Thank you all for the love! <3


	14. Hair Today, Here Tomorrow (ThorinxReader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin becomes obsessed with the locks of a pink-haired human lass and decides to do something to quench the nagging desire to touch them. Surely the urges will stop once he does, right? ...Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some implied NSFW content, but nothing crazy. 
> 
> This is a request from Jessica, a super sweet, loyal reader who I’m so grateful to have <3 I hope you enjoy it and sorry for the long wait it took for me to write this! I tried to have a balance of sweet and saucy and once again the chapter wrote itself despite my original plans for it. I wrote this piece post the hobbit films WHERE EVERYONE LIVES BECAUSE THEY DESERVE IT. >:'[

There she is. 

The lass with the odd hair color. Thorin had first seen her scampering around the marketplace and had to do a double take at the sight. “Pink hair?” he recalled thinking as he wrinkled his nose in confusion. It struck him as extremely peculiar as he had never seen anything like it, but the more he looked at it, the more he grew fond of its uniqueness. Especially when it seemed to capture the attention of those around him, diverting their eyes from spotting the king among the commoners which usually lead to an unnecessary fuss.

Much later after getting properly acquainted, he was beside himself with the growing urge to touch those locks; to feel them sifting through his fingers and maybe even grabbing onto it, which was… a quite intimate notion, indeed. 

Thorin ran into the lass in one of the halls in Erebor on his way to a meeting with his council and felt that familiar itch that accompanied the admiration of the light, pink hair that fluttered within his breast. Before she could dart away, Thorin abruptly asked her in passing to stop by and see him for a favor three hours from then and to bring her supplies. She bowed in response and he nodded in approval and carried on throughout his day. He tried to focus on his tasks at hand, but his mind had other plans. Every time a color remotely resembling pink flashed in his peripherals, Thorin's head automatically swung in their direction thinking it was her hair -- even though at most times it was impossible that she would be there.

This had to stop. 

Now, here Thorin sat at his desk, waiting for her to come to him. The reason he had asked was for one reason and one reason only, though he couldn’t very well say so in front of his council or Dwalin -- or her, for that matter -- at the time. It was a ruse to get her alone and find a way to get his fill so that these urges would stop. 

Durin's beard, what sort of sorcery _is_ this? What was it about that blasted pink hair that he became more obsessed about than gold? It was silly to even entertain the idea that Thorin was now susceptible to “Pink Hair Sickness” but he just had to find a way to touch it. It seemed logical that if he was able to touch those pretty locks, then the urges would finally go away. And as he waited for Y/N to arrive in his office on a “favor of the king”, his mind took him back in time to the day he first laid eyes on her; when this whole obsession started.

 

* * *

 

Thorin watched the human lass hurrying her way through the hustling and bustling crowd to one of the stalls several feet away from him. Her pink hair was short, curly, and the light pink color of it reminded him of the soft glow of a sunset; a faint, pretty blush at the end of the day on a clear sky. And it looked so _soft._

Distracted by the whimsical color, Thorin momentarily forgot what he ventured into town for; instead he watched the girl diligently fill her basket with viles, jars, and herbs. Based on how her head was just shy taller of some of the dwarrows and was obviously not a child, he concluded she was short for a human. Likely matching the height of Thorin, himself, from what he could deduce from this distance. He didn’t recall ever seeing her before and there wasn’t talk of any newcomers or merchants with pink hair traveling around his halls. Thorin turned to Dwalin who had accompanied him. 

“Have you seen that human maid before?”

Dwalin didn’t need to ask him who he was referring to. She was hard to miss in a crowd without her heritage. Her pink puff shuffled over to another stall to review the contents hanging down from the roof (more herbs) and exchanged a jar with the merchant for a coin bag. She seemed to get along amicably with the fellow who was talking in excited, demonstrative gestures and pointing to his beard. 

“No. Seems to know ‘er way around, aye? What odd hair...”

Thorin hummed a noncommittal sound and was jarred from his bewitchment in watching her when a dwarf ran into him, knocking his hood off. Thorin wasn't able to readjust it back on his head in time.

“Pardon me, lad, didn’t see-- o-oh, Your Highness! Please forgive me, I didn’t know it was you!” the flustered old dwarrow bowed so low, his gray beard touched the ground.

That’s all it took to get word out of the king’s appearance, and once it did from the scene the older dwarf was making, Thorin became swarmed by his subjects. Most wanted to bid him good afternoon and resumed their day, and others eagerly thrusted free gifts from their stalls and bags to him -- though he kindly refused the offerings -- and Dwalin did his best to block Thorin from view and shield him before barking at everyone to back off. The pink-haired girl looked over curiously at the commotion before flushing and looking away after catching and holding Thorin’s eye.

Thorin eventually was able to break off to tend to his official business as planned and Dwalin was positively scowling at his side.

“Yer sure ya couldn’t have sent someone else to do this, my king? Kili loves goin’ into town. I’m sure the lad would have been happy to help,” he said, waving off another well-intented gift.

Thorin smirked and sighed. “Dwalin, I am not incapable of running my own errands just because of who I am. I enjoy going out unannounced every once in a while. It brings me joy to see how my people are settling in. Besides, this is for a very special occasion that I wished to personally see to. Would you deny your friend such a rare luxury?” he elbowed Dwalin affectionately.

Dwalin merely grumbled in response knowing he was right but he couldn't help but remain overprotective.

When the two arrived at the local tailor to personally commission a birthday gown for Thorin’s sister, Dis, the owner all but scrambled his way over to meet them. He was completely ecstatic to be commissioned by his beloved king for something so important such as this. They had spent maybe an hour or more going over various designs, sketches, colors, fabrics, and stitchings, and once they finished Thorin was reluctant to head back out, lest he be spotted and swarmed again. Being floored with attention in such a way by his people wasn’t anything new to him -- he had dealt with it his entire life as a prince and it came second nature now that he ascended the throne.

But what he wanted now was to be treated like everybody else every once in a while. Sure, he was king, and his status had set a very high expectancy on how society were to behave, talk, and respond while in his presence, but he wanted to be spoken to on equal footing from time to time -- like a friend. _With_ a friend. 

Even Dwalin had been talking and acting differently around him the moment after his coronation, taking his role as Thorin’s bodyguard and Captain of the Guard very seriously and wouldn’t dare drop an ounce of formality to his friend even in private.

The dread that he would forever be plagued with formalities from his nearest and dearest to the end of his days all changed when the pink haired lass entered through the tailor’s door with the chime of the welcome bell as they loitered. Just as Thorin had been thinking of it. She froze when she saw him, eyes wide, cheeks flushing; obviously recognizing who he was. She tucked a thick curl behind her ear and shuffled nervously on her feet before curtsying in front of him.

“Your Highness,” she greeted softly. He tilted his head in a short nod on impulse, acknowledging her respect and his eyes glossed over her hair and how bright it shone from the rays of the sun hitting in through the window. It looked even more dazzling up close.  

“Ah! Right on time!” Odmeck, the tailor, called excitedly, snapping Thorin out of trance. “So good to see ye! I’ll be with ya in a moment.” Then turning to Thorin, “was there anything else you needed today, my king? I have all the correct measurements and fabrics you picked out, but if you’d like to look over some more samples I’ve brought in these squares of fabric--”

Thorin shook his head and held up his hand to still his speech. “I am highly confident in your work and will trust in your recommendations, as we discussed. Perhaps I may have your leave to take rest inside your shop a moment longer, if it would not bother you?”

Odmeck was obviously flustered; fidgeting with his rust-colored beard as a smile flooded his face, “It wouldn’t bother me in the slightest, my king! I’m honored, I am! Please, stay as long as ye wish. Would you like something to drink?”

“Two ales,” Dwalin cut in, knowing Thorin needed a proper repose from the throng awaiting him outside. Thorin nodded in agreement. when Odmeck looked to him to confirm. 

“Right away! I’ll be back soon, lass, don’t ye go anywhere!” And with that, the old dwarf shuffled off to the back with purpose. The girl avoided eye contact with Thorin and shifted her weight from foot to foot in silence before arbitrarily fiddling with the contents in her basket. Dwalin strode over to the window and leaned against the post, eyeing her hair with a bemused expression from behind her while Thorin stared openly in front. 

Despite there being many colorful fabrics and displays set around the room, her hair was by far the brightest. And for one who stood out so much and demanded all attention with that beautiful hue, she seemed oddly bashful for having such a bold choice of hair color.

There was some commotion being had in the back of the shop that sounded like Odmeck arguing with a clerk, and the gentle whirring sounds of sewing machines purring in the other room, but other than that there was blaring quiet in the storefront.

“Are you new to town or passing through?” Thorin asked her, needing to break this silence.

Her head snapped up.

“What? Oh, uh, no, Your Highness. I traveled here from the Iron Hills with my family.” 

That drew both Dwalin’s and Thorin’s full attention. Before either of them could ask, she quickly clarified, “I’m adopted.”

“Interesting. How did that come to pass, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Thorin worried the topic was too delicate and felt an inconsiderate fool for asking when he really was just curious, but relaxed when she smiled genuinely. “I was found abandoned in the outskirts of town because I was sickly, and I guess my real mother thought I would die anyway so... my adoptive mother found me after just losing her own baby to childbirth and decided to take me in. Motherly instincts and all. She always told me that Mahal must have gifted me to her to make up the misfortune.”

She ended her rather bittersweet story with a careless shrug, though her expression had revealed anything but indifference to the sad tale. Thorin could sense love in those eyes for the dwarrowdam who brought her in and cared for her. They were quite fierce mothers to be sure (and Dis was no exception) and Thorin found it quite charming that a human maid had turned up in a dwarven household by fate.

“You were raised by dwarves then?” Thorin asked gently, assuming that her Amad found fit to raise her as her own without sending her back to where Man resided.

She nodded, biting her lip and retucking her curl behind her ear. He spotted a dwarven piercing along the curve of cartilage and wondered what other dwarven cultural norms she was brought up on -- as secretive as his people were, it was possible that there were things she was not permitted to do or learn. Her hair being short raised numerous questions for one and he wondered why she was made to cut it. As it was not an appropriate topic, he didn’t ask. 

Before anything else could be said, Odmeck stormed back in, his scowl quickly melting into a cheerful smile for Thorin. “My apologies for the wait, my king, I’m having a new cask opened for you --- aged for 300 years and given to me by my own grandfather for special occasions.” He clapped excitedly. 

Thorin heaved a breath but managed a polite smile, “That is very kind of you. Any ale would do, however. No need to break open a family heirloom--”

“Oh, psh!” Odmeck waved. “I cannae very well serve the king just any ol’ brew, now can I? What host would I be? Now, while we’re waitin’ on that,” the tailor now beckoned the girl over. “Lassie, I have yer silver right here. My wife is just beside herself with excitement!”

Coming to life in the same manner as Thorin first saw in the marketplace, the lass giggled and skirted over to hand Odmeck a sizable jar. Thorin’s eyes remained locked on her hair; unable to take his eyes off of it. He wanted to resume their conversation and hoped the girl would linger when her transaction was completed enough to ask her name at least.

“I had so much fun with this mixture! I hope she likes it. Just make sure her hair is thoroughly washed and to use a cotton wrap for the treatment to settle in. Then wash with warm water. If she wants the color to be darker, she can repeat the process, but I think one go oughta do it. Here, I’ve written the directions down just in case.” The girl spoke with such passion for her craft that Thorin couldn’t help but smile. 

“Yer a gem,” Odmeck smiled deeply, accepting the small folded paper and exchanging it with a coin bag. “Now then! I’ll see about getting two mugs.”

“Four,” Thorin quickly corrected.

“My king?” Odmeck ventured unsurely.

Dwalin grunted an amused noise and Thorin turned to the tailor and then lingered his eyes on the girl’s pink hair, “I would be honored if you both were able to join us for a drink, if you could spare the time.”

Odmeck was positively beaming as if the Maker himself had requested such an invite and stumbled all over himself expressing his gratitude. The girl looked shocked and almost confused as to why she was being included and Thorin hoped she would accept. He wanted another excuse to look at her hair a while longer before she scampered off. 

“Would you prefer tea, instead? Odmeck’s clerk, Hamdean, makes an excellent cup.”

She bit back a lopsided smile, “No, ale is fine, Your Highness - I could sure use it. I’m Y/N, by the way.” She bowed her head in introduction, knowing better than to offer him her hand to shake. 

“A pleasure, to be sure,” he returned the bow and instead lifted her hand to his lips without thinking, causing Dwalin to lift a suspicious eyebrow and Odmeck to clear his throat uncomfortably before excusing himself to retrieve the mugs and drink. 

As they seated themselves at the small table by the window, Thorin didn’t know what came over him to respond that way to her introduction -- Y/N was visibly shocked but gracefully accepted. But in the end, Thorin blamed the hair.

 

* * *

 

“Ah, so you are a hairstylist,” Thorin said before taking a gulp from his mug. 

“‘Splains the hair, fer certain,” Dwalin nodded pointedly. “Why pink?” He was the only one who didn’t bother drinking with them. He never drank on the job and had told Thorin he preferred a clear head at all times but was happy to partake in the conversation regardless and being the sober head whenever the king needed to get loose. Not that Thorin ever overindulged out in public.

Odmeck had excused himself from their company after finishing his own mug, as he needed to get back to work to get an early start on Dis's gown, but offered his back room as a private sitting area and the trio moved in there to continue.  

“Because I thought it was pretty and suited my skin tone. And, well, you already know who I grew up with. Hair is important to dwarves, so it’s important to me, too! I wanted to offer people something new and different to enhance and rejuvenate their beauty.”

“Then why is yers so short?” huffed Dwalin.

When Y/N looked visibly uncomfortable, Thorin wanted kick the oaf, but he grew respect for the strength in Y/N’s voice as she retorted back firmly, “I always try out the dyes on myself first before giving them to clients. I grew my hair out very long and cut it off just passed my shoulders and saved my clippings to use for sampling colors to gauge the effects before applying it to actual hair. I don’t know why I thought fine to do it this time, but I tried a dye on my hair without testing first and it ended up frying most of the ends off and I… had to cut really short…” 

Y/N swirled the small locks at the nape of her neck and Thorin could see how distraught she was about it. He could empathize her lament, but he thought she looked quite adorable with short hair -- she even made curled faux sideburns for herself which were quite charming. Though he kept such opinions to himself and drank from his mug instead so as not to further discomfort her. 

“Well, better my hair than a dwarrowdam’s!” she laughed suddenly. “There’d be a bounty on my head for sure if I got the concoction wrong and fried off a well-kept beard. I’m very proud of my dyes; they’re very popular with the older dwarrows and dwarrowdams who aren’t quite ready to go gray yet. But so far, the most popular color is Red Rose.”

Thorin chuckled at her consideration and good cheer about it. He highly approved her consideration and foresight for such a unique business she was running and decided maybe his opinion might be taken kindly after all. “If it is any consolation, short hair does suit you well. As does the color -- what is the pink called?” He still couldn’t take his eyes off it.

Her cheeks blushed to match her hair and it made Thorin smile even wider.  

“Er... it’s called Blush.”

Oh, how fitting was that.

Somewhere behind them, the clock chimed and Y/N’s eyes suddenly widened before whipping her head around to look. “Oh no, I have to drop off another dye and meet with a client! I’m so sorry, Your Highness, but I have to go.”

Thorin stood when she got to her feet and tried to come up with something to say in order to see her again that wouldn’t come off as strange. They’d only been speaking for an hour, for Mahal’s sake, but she had a calming air about her that he enjoyed and wanted to be around again. That and he just couldn’t get enough of those pink locks; they were so pleasing to the eye, after all.

“It was a pleasure speaking with you, Your Highness. Thank you for inviting me to sit and drink, I definitely needed it.” 

She turned with another bow and was ready to head out, so he had to think fast, “Wait. I should like to employ your services for my sister’s birthday.” 

“For--for Princess Dis?!” she practically squeaked.

“Thorin -- er, _my king_ \-- Dis is very particular about her hair and we haven’t seen any of the lass's handiwork that isn’t on ‘er own wee head,” Dwalin exclaimed, nodding in Y/N’s direction as if she wasn’t there. Y/N cocked a surly brow at him and crossed her arms with pursed lips and Thorin waved Dwalin's words away.

“Fine.” The king now addressed Y/N, “Would you mind if we tagged along to your next appointment to view if you would meet my sister’s specifications? Her birthday is next month and I am hosting a feast in her honor.”

“I don’t know what to say… what if she’d prefer someone else? I thought humans weren’t allowed within Erebor.”  

“You are my citizen and I am personally inviting you as my guest. In light of if your hair skills are not needed, perhaps you would instead allow me to be your escort for the event?”

Thorin made sure the sentence was said in his best “kingly” voice, to avoid any room for decline. In his peripherals, Dwalin stared at him dumbfounded but didn’t dare say a word against it. What Thorin said went. And Y/N, her blush matching her Blush-colored hair, had only a few words to say in response.

“In that case I’d be honored, Your Highness.” 

 

* * *

 

Dis, though highly wary and brusque with her at first, had quickly ended up loving Y/N’s skills (and the lass in general) so much she had appointed her as her go-to stylist for all events and council meetings she attended henceforth after Y/N fixed her hair for the birthday celebration. Thorin was still Y/N’s escort for Dis’s party and was mighty disappointed when she arrived with brown hair. Relief settled in his chest when she informed him that it was only a wig, and that she had only done it so as not to dim the attention Dis should be receiving on her special day and Thorin’s heart melted at her selflessness and noble intent. With the brunette locks putting a temporary pause and distraction in his obsession with her unique hair since it was out of view, Thorin got to know Y/N very well during the celebration and they had become fast companions.

They had received numerous peculiar looks together -- a human in Erebor at Princess Dis's birthday feast was unexpected and taken with mixed acceptance. But with Dis speaking so highly of her and being that Y/N was personally invited by Thorin, himself, the focus returned to the dwarrowdam of honor.

Needless to say, with Dis’s gleaming praise sporting her dashing new birthday look, Y/N’s popularity and demand grew substantially. To Thorin’s surprise, she still remained loyal to Dis as her own personal hairdresser, but sold her dyes to clients throughout the mountain and ran her own shop to maintain the influx of orders by hiring on help. Now there was a variety of beautifully colored beards and hair proudly roaming about his kingdom. Thorin was pleased when Y/N accepted his invitation to move in to save her the trouble of traveling to and from. There was so much joy being brought to his home with the human lass there.

But there was just one problem with it all… that blasted pink hair! Since she had moved in, he was always seeing it around. Dreaming about it. Daydreaming about it... He had to touch it. Just this once, and it would all be over with. (So he hoped.)

Thorin’s head lifted and brought him back to the present at the three solid knocks sounding on his door along with an announcement of who it was. With a deep, “Let her in” the guard standing post obeyed orders and opened the door and held it open for the lass. The guard’s eyes locked on her pink hair inquisitively until the door shut it from view from him. In Y/N’s arms was a bundle of jars and rolled parchments and she seemed especially excited.

“Your Highness,” she bowed with a smile. 

“You know you are perfectly welcome to call me Thorin, behind closed doors.” 

“Thorin. I know, sorry,” she corrected sweetly before hustling over and carefully arranging the load in her arms across his wide desk. 

Thorin wasn’t paying attention to a word she was saying because she was standing so close to him, leaning over his desk, gesturing to some jars and pointing to others, looking over her shoulder at him from time to time as she spoke. He nodded along under the pretense that he was listening but he was getting a full, satisfying view of Blush.

Whatever shampoo she used smelled mouthwatering (like vanilla and sugar) and that was what captured his attention at present. _Likely another product of her own making,_ he thought with a fond grin. Sweets would never strike him the same way ever again. All he’d contribute to the aroma would be the lass with pink hair. As if he needed yet another deterrent. 

Y/N was deeply invested in educating him on something or other, meanwhile her pink hair was right here. Several inches away.  Close enough for him to just reach up his hand and…

“Thorin, what’re you doing?” Y/N stilled.

Oh, Durin’s hammer, he actually placed his palm on her head like a complete fool! Quickly he retracted his arm and backed up a step to give her space and her body turned slowly to face him in stark confusion. 

He couldn’t even think up an acceptable excuse because there wasn’t any. He had touched her without asking on an intimate place of her body -- for dwarves at least, but since she was raised by them and tended to hair for a living, she knew the significance of the magnitude of touching hair. He decided to just come clean. 

“I--forgive me. It… your hair. I have become quite obsessed with it to the point I fear I might go mad. I have no excuse for touching you inappropriately without your consent, and I am sorry for causing you any distress from my actions, forgive me.” He canted his head apologetically to her, hoping she’d forgive him and waited for the lady to pack up her things and leave. He wouldn’t have faulted her that reaction. But she seemed frozen in place. 

When he observed her more closely, he saw that she was touching the back of her neck thoughtfully, actually stifling a grin on her lips. “You’re obsessed with my hair? Why, because of the color?”

His cheeks heated up in embarrassment at putting it all into words. “I do not know what it is about it that captivates me so, but the moment I saw your hair, I felt this growing need to feel it beneath my hands. I am afraid that the urge has not gone away even still, and your fragrance _is_ rather decadent to my senses; I confess I have a bit of a sweet tooth and I suppose I could not help myself when confronted with the combination.” 

She nibbled on her thumbnail as her eyes roamed around his face, but not meeting his eye directly. Thorin didn’t know what to say next. He wasn’t about to apologize yet a third time, as she had never even said she had forgiven him. Yet… the wheels in her head seemed to be turning behind her roaming eyes. And Thorin noticed that she didn’t look disturbed in the slightest, which gave him an odd sense of hope amidst feeling like he made an unbecoming arse of himself just now. 

Despite his awful manners, his traitorous hand was itching for another feel. He kept his grabby paws locked in place by sinking his thumbs into his belt.

“Do you still wish to touch it?” she asked shyly. 

He moved in closer impulsively, realized what he did, then stepped back again. “It is wrong of me to want to touch such a precious part of you--”

“Thorin,” she interrupted sternly, snapping his attention back to her. No one ever speaks to him like that, and… it was actually quite a relief. Thrilling, almost. His heart lifted anew when Y/N showed no signs of distaste or objection but he held his breath just the same. 

“Do you still wish to touch my hair?” she finished. 

Understanding that she wanted an actual answer, he replied honestly, “I do. But, Y/N--” She held up a hand to stop him and approached him until they were almost chest to chest. As she approached, her sweet scent carried along with her and Thorin drank it deep into his lungs, his senses matching it to her bewitching pink hair.

He was going out of his mind being so close. 

“I have a confession to make, too. I…” She finally met his eye, blushed and looked away, resolved with newfound courage, and lifted her eyes to his once more. “I’m quite obsessed with your hair, as well.”

Thorin was taken aback and listened to her continue on, stunned. 

“I deal with a lot of hair and I’ve seen every and all textures you can think of, but never have I ever worked with or seen anything like yours before. It’s just so… thick and lush!” She brought her hands up to ghost around the shape of it and Thorin begged with his eyes for her to touch him, even leaning his face forward to give her the go ahead. 

She said, “The waves… these streaks of gray in contrast to the dark, your braids; always so perfectly brushed and cared for. I love it, I’ve been going mad wondering what it feels like. When you employed me for my services in Erebor, I was hoping it would mean I’d get to do your hair for you along with Dis, but I was content to continue hoping when it never happened. Then I worried that you might be wanting to dye it when you asked me to come by and I got scared at the thought -- your color is so majestic and wonderful on its own and it makes your beautiful blue eyes pop.”

Realizing the high compliment she provided him, she blushed and averted his eyes again, unsure of how he would take it or if it was inappropriate. 

“So,” he drawled with a proud, sly smile to fully reassure her otherwise. “You have fantasized about touching the king’s hair, have you?”

Y/N recoiled in shock and started stuttering apologies and Thorin laughed, grabbing her arms gently to calm her down. “I am teasing, sweetling. However, now that both of our consciences are clear, perhaps we can… indulge in our obsessions? I give you my full permission to do as you wish.”

Thorin's heart thumped in his chest at the beaming smile he received from her. “King’s before commoners,” Y/N winked. 

“Ladies before dwarrows,” he retorted smoothly, moving closer to give her an open invitation and gazing at her intently. 

He barely noticed his heart was now racing. Nobody ever touched his hair these days, not even his sister. As an unmarried, available dwarrow, Thorin always tended to his locks himself and he was a bit nervous in letting Y/N touch them. Not because he didn’t want her to, but because he was worried it wouldn’t meet her expectations. He realize with a start that he hadn’t had the chance to rewash it yet, either, and it didn’t smell as fresh as he would have liked as it was late in the day. 

Y/N reached a hand up and stilled. Thorin looked to her questioningly. “I feel like I’m breaking a rule here,” she laughed nervously. 

“Must I make a royal decree of it?” Thorin asked playfully then chuckled when she pouted and bit the inside of her cheek. "Would it make you more comfortable if I were seated?" He didn't wait for her to answer when he slid his chair out farther from his desk and sat in it. That seemed to do the trick. 

She stood between him and his desk and Thorin shuddered when her fingers snaked in from his temples and then traveled to the back of his scalp before she brushed her fingers through to the ends of his hair. His skin prickled and tingled from his head to his toes at this new sensation that varied so staggeringly from his own ministrations. She looked to him as if checking if this was still okay, and he closed his eyes and leaned his head back in anticipation for more. 

His mouth parted in a sigh when her hands returned, rather more enthusiastically, down the same path she ventured before then dipped up into the nape of his neck.

“It’s so…” 

When she didn’t continue, Thorin’s eyes opened and he blinked away the pleasant haze obscuring his view and felt a pitter-patter of worry that perhaps his hair wasn’t what she expected after all. But that apprehension melted away instantly by her awed expression. His chest swelled with masculine pride at the adoring look on her face.

“So...?” he prompted deeply. 

“So soft! Mahal, it’s so soft and thick.” As her fingers started combing reverently through his mane and smoothing as she went, his head dipped back in another content sigh. Her touch felt wonderful and when she started massaging his scalp, he couldn’t help the small, pleasurable moans from escaping his lips from her talented fingers. He'd never experienced this before and his hands clutched the arms of his chair tightly. 

After another grunt of pleasure he opened his eyes to see her smirking at him. “Are you enjoying yourself?” his husky voice inquired. 

“I should be asking you that,” she giggled, lightly circulating her nails up the back of his scalp before running her fingers back through his hair. 

“As a matter of fact, I believe it is my turn,” Thorin purred. Y/N didn’t release her hands from his hair, much to his delight, and leaned down slightly to accommodate him. 

 _Finally,_ Thorin thought. _At last._

Using both hands Thorin reached up and smoothed a path from the top of her head down to her neck. He sifted his fingers through her locks from her nape and did a full run through her scalp to the ends of her hair and it was just as soft as he imagined it would be. Like a fluffy pink, blushing cloud. 

Ensuring to get his fill, Thorin stroked, petted, and tugged enthusiastically and watched with intrigue the unique expressions appearing on her face -- ones she attempted to hide almost immediately as they happened. Although her curious hands stopped roaming in his own hair, she clenched tightly on his locks whenever he tugged a certain way on hers.

Needless to say, Thorin had been wrong about this whole thing. He thought that by finally touching her hair he would be free of his obsession with it, but it only seemed to exacerbate his drive. It would have been better if he had never touched them at all, but now that he knew what it felt like... he was insatiable.  

Her eyes seemed to become hooded and she grunts, “Thorin?” 

“Hm?”

“I’m getting a little weak in the knees here.” 

A devilish thought took root in his brain as he took in the different way she was breathing, “Are you.” 

Thorin gave an experimental tug with more pressure than before and was rewarded with a gasp melted into a feminine moan. She latched on to him again in response, and looked up under her lashes embarrassed. Thorin would have thought fit to tease her if not when she tugged on him, he let out a trembling breath as a bolt of electricity shot right down to his sex. And Y/N saw it happen. This was no longer a "professional" experimentation. This was quickly evolving into another matter entirely. 

Something in the air changed between them then and for the first time Thorin was no longer distracted by Y/N’s pink hair. Now he was being distracted by her lips. Hands still tangled in each other’s hair, they shared a knowing look and both of their heads leaned in. 

What was intended to be one kiss led to several more each once growing more obscene than the last and both of their sounds growing in octave at each tug and pull of their hair. And before either of them knew it, Y/N was picked up and deposited back onto his desk and her bottles and papers were knocked asunder and sent skittering and rolling away as if they wanted no part in what was transpiring. Thorin's tongue parted her lips to taste her and he growled in approval in her mouth. She gasped his name between kisses when he rutted himself into her and swallowed her loud mewl -- he suddenly remembered the guard standing post just outside and the door wasn't exactly soundproof. 

Thorin broke the kiss first, needing to catch his breath (and his senses). Y/N laid there flushed and panting, breathless save for a sheepish smile. 

“Well, I can honestly say this isn’t what I thought you wanted at all when you asked me to stop by for a favor,” she snickered. Unable to help himself, Thorin leaned over her, drinking the sight of her in.

“Oh?” he kissed his way across her cheek and up to her temple, burying his nose and hand further in her sweet hair before giving a small tug. 

She gasped. “I thought you wanted something hair-related, but… you know, not _this_ type of hair-related. My clients generally don’t get this sort of special service included with their appointments.”

He licked the lass’s mouth open again and pulled away when she strived for more and quirked a stern, though playful, eyebrow. “I would certainly hope not!”

“Maybe…” she ventured shyly, engulfing both hands in his mane and tugging his head back. He obliged with a deep groan but still kept his eyes on her. 

She continued, “This can be just for you, at your request?”

He smiled deeply at that. It was just as well that he'd never get enough of her hair -- or her -- in his hands moving forward. Thorin brought her to a seated position and leaned his body between her legs and ran his fingers through her soft hair from scalp to ends, enjoying it’s silky feel gliding under his palm. “That is a very tempting offer, though I would hate to steal you from my sister...” he joked.

“Up to you. But if your obsession has been properly sated, maybe I can finally change my hair color to--”

“No!” 

Y/N quirked an amused smile and Thorin cursed with a small blush and turned his face away and added, “I like it this color. And if it would not be too much work, I would fancy if you would tend to my hair from now on along with Dis.”

“Oh?” Y/N mimicked his deep voice playfully, tucking her hands behind her head to grin at him. “I think I can offer you a fair price.”

“On one condition,” he scooped his hand around to grab the underside of hair and gently tugged her head back to plant a fleeting kiss on her lips before righting them both to standing positions. “You do not offer your ‘special services’ to anyone else but me. I would like to continue exploring our obsessions together, if you are agreeable to seeing me as a potential partner.”

“I’m afraid that’ll cost you extra,” Y/N flirted with a wink.  

Thorin chuckled and wound an arm around her waist to dip her, “I will tip you handsomely and make it worth your while.”

His dark curtain of hair dangled between them and she eyed it mischievously and pretended to ponder the deal. “I’m sure we can work something out; I'd be happy to continue seeing you. Consider this a sample of what I have in mind for tomorrow,” she drawled seductively.

His eyes darkened and he kissed her fiercely.

 

* * *

 

_The next day..._

“You look different this morning…” Dis mused with squinted eyes as she and Thorin sat down at the dining table for breakfast.  

“Do I?” He certainly felt different. And tired. And starved for nutrients. 

“I can’t put my finger on it…” she drifted off. Dis found it hard to concentrate on her food due to constantly flicking her eyes over to scan every little detail of Thorin. Kili and Fili soon joined them at the table and Kili did a double take and pointed in a circular motion above Thorin's head.

“Did you have a late night?” he asked suspiciously. 

Thorin choked on his food for a moment and coughed to clear it and tried to remain nonchalant as he observed all three of their expressions. Did he know? Did any of them figure it out? How?! He and Y/N had been very discreet last night and she left early to tend to Dis without being spotted at all! At least... they thought she wasn't spotted.

Fili nodded to concur with his brother before taking his seat. 

“Aye, you didn’t even brush your hair properly,” he said with a chuckle.

Thorin paled and reached a hand up to absentmindedly touch the locks that Y/N’s fingers and hands have gone through from night to morning. He didn't even think to check in a mirror before he left; what was he thinking? And Mahal, what would _Dis_ think--

She clapped her hands in realization and Thorin was about ready to excuse himself from the table when, “That’s it! My goodness, Thorin, you need to stop working yourself so hard if it’s getting to the point that you can’t even tend to your hair! You can steal Y/N from me, you know. She’s very creative and thorough and works _wonders_ with her hands,” she pointed proudly at her latest hairstyle and Thorin relaxed. 

At that moment, Y/N skipped by to get some breakfast and locked eyes with Thorin from across the way. After a quick look around, she bit her lip and managed a shy smile and wave. Thorin lifted his drink to her and returned their secret grin. 

“Aye. That she does,” he said with a satisfied smirk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy to receive requests as long as you don't mind a lengthy waiting period. Between my main story (Promise) and some of the chapters for this oneshot series, I tend to jump back and forth between chapters and since I work during the day, I don't have as much time as I'd like to really devote to writing. I love you all! Thanks for sticking around and reading!


	15. My Treasure (SmaugxReader) Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You catch wind that Smaug, your beloved dragon that you raised and released many moons ago, has done some pretty despicable things and is currently holed up in Erebor. You venture forth to try to reason with him to leave but when that proves to be an impossible task, you punish him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None
> 
> Part 1 of 2.
> 
> Sorry again for the long wait. I swear I've nowhere near lost interest in this series! Life just has a way of being the ultimate hobby block, as it were. Thanks to all who are still reading and hello to any newcomers! <3
> 
> This was a request for FoxxForce5 who had a really creative idea surrounding a witch reader who was a caretaker for Smaug since she hatched him and they eventually find their way back to each other to resolve past hurts. I’ve never written for Smaug before, but I loved the idea so much I had to write it! I hope to do the story justice.

As you walked through the gates of Erebor and into the mountain itself, you wondered how you got to be there. Not how you got there physically, of course, but what led you to have to travel there in the first place. You were just a carefree witch born from the land itself many aeons ago residing in the Northern part of Middle Earth. You kept to yourself and had virtually no involvement in the outside world beyond your acres of land if matters didn’t concern you directly, if it was that time to venture into town for supplies you couldn’t grow or make on your own, or if a traveler came to you for a potion or charm. Most days you passed your time caring for beasts and creatures from birth or injury and then releasing them back into the wild when they no longer needed your protection. No matter how many times you did this, it always broke your heart when it was time to say goodbye. 

You didn’t mind traveling. But in order to get to Erebor, and quickly, you had to use your magic essence and not a horse. Which came with its own exhaustion that you didn’t like to instigate unless in times of great need. And yet here you were. Why? 

Well, you’ve been given information and heard whispers of ravens returning to Erebor -- where a dragon lived. A dragon named Smaug. You even confirmed the rumors in your rune casting, that certain events were being set in motion involving a dragon dwelling within this mountain. And if it _was_ Smaug, your favorite beast that you’ve ever cared for proclaimed as a terror and calamity, you would have to intervene. He wasn’t like other dragons -- that you were able to deduce within two weeks after he hatched -- so hearing about all the terrible things Smaug did to claim this dwarven kingdom and the treasure inside, well… it pissed you off. Immensely. If any of what you were told was true, then something must have happened to Smaug to corrupt him, somehow. But you had to see for yourself before you jumped to conclusions. Surely this wasn’t your Smaug in there. It had to be another drake with a similar-sounding name. This would be worth the trip and power to prove you wrong if that was the case so you made sure your animals and your things were tended to and cared for and moved with haste. 

The process took about four hours of materializing your physical body in and out of the physical realm and you were slightly drained when you finally took form at your destination.

After catching your breath and composing yourself, you arrived inside unannounced as swift and quiet as a shadow. But you ensured that you could be easily spotted. Voices were heard echoing in the walls and you followed them until you found a ragtag company of dwarves and a hobbit. 

“Excuse me,” you called to them. “But is it true? Is there a dragon named Smaug in this mountain?”

Based on their startled reactions and jumpy behavior, you knew the situation was tense and there was no good way to approach them any more carefully than you already did. 

“Who are you? How did you get in here?!” the dwarves replied. One of them in particular was especially displeased to see you, but it was of no concern to yours. You’d erase yourself from their memory after you tended to your business here anyway, but you didn’t want to have to fight your way through when it wasn’t truly necessary.

The same displeased, brooding dwarf, likely the leader of the bunch, stormed up to you with his weapon drawn. “Identify yourself -- why have you intruded into my halls?” his baritone voice inquired harshly. 

Others took up a similar fighting stance and whispered to each other as they stood their ground and formed a protective circle around their leader. They were probably perplexed on why there was a woman here, how you managed to sneak up on them undetected, and what your business was. You withdrew the hood from your head addressed the leader directly, “I’ve traveled very far to see for myself the dragon Smaug that is said to reside in this mountain. Is he here or isn’t he?”

“What’s it to you?” a partially bald, tattooed, muscular dwarf demanded. 

“And who are ya?” another added. 

“I’m a beast tamer,” you said amidst the other various questions being thrown at you. 

“A beast tamer?” the authoritative one echoed in a snarky voice. “How convenient for you to show up decades after the worm demolished and usurped my home and throne. I'm afraid it's too late to tame anything here.”

You narrowed your eyes on him, not appreciating that deprecating tone of his in the slightest or slighting drakes with that moniker. “So there is a dragon here. Do you not want to rid your mountain of the drake? I can do that, if you’ll let me through.”

“Thorin,” a short, white-bearded fellow muttered, grabbing onto his elbow. “You can’t let her inside! The treasure…” the rest was said too low for you to hear but you weren’t invested in whatever it was being babbled between them. You came here for a purpose and you wanted to get to it. 

“I have no interest in treasure or gold and I’m not asking you to pay me for my services -- I’ve traveled far and fast to get here and quite frankly, I’m exhausted and am losing my patience. Will you let me in to rid you of your beast or won’t you? It won’t be banished easily, especially if it’s accustomed to your scent, so good luck if you plan on trekking down there yourselves.”

Although your power needed recharging, you could easily take all of them on if they decided to engage in combat, but that would require an additional amount of your magic that you didn’t wish to spare unless absolutely necessary -- you needed your strength and wits about you to face the dragon, Smaug or no. And you hated fighting. 

“That is precisely why we have our hobbit,” the leader, Thorin, scoffed. The hobbit in question looked shaken and flustered upon the weight of his duty. He had probably never seen a dragon before in his life, from the looks of it. But you knew Smaug since he was a hatchling and if you could spare the hobbit from entering the den, then all the better for everybody involved. 

“All the more reason for me to go in his place. I’ve handled many beasts in my time and I’ve worked with dragons before; I’ll talk it into leaving and then you’ll be free to roam your mountain as you please.” You didn’t bother mentioning that you knew Smaug. You still weren’t sure if that was even him inside.

“You cannot talk a dragon into doing anything.”

“I’m prepared if it proves uncooperative -- if it will not come willingly, then I will take it by force. I can handle myself.”

To emphasize your point, you conjured a blue fireball that blazed and flared violently in your hand -- an illusion just for show that didn’t affect your magic levels in the slightest -- as your way to inform them that you were no mere woman and had power in your blood that they didn’t. 

They all exchanged looks with one another before reaching a silent agreement and finally let you pass -- some of the more polite dwarves wishing you luck on the way. Your heart grew heavier at each step you took towards the treasure room. You prepared yourself to face a dragon, hopefully not one you loved so dearly, but just the same. Dragons weren’t creatures to be taken lightly, especially when they claimed a treasure horde. 

When you entered the room, your eyes darted past the piles of gold coins and searched for the giant serpent said to nearing the end of its hibernation. The beast purred out a sound of recognition and registered your presence quickly with sharp puffs of breath as it took in your scent. A cascade of treasure billowed and trembled off of the imposing, scaled creature as it unveiled itself from its golden resting place gracefully.

Although he was vastly larger than when you last saw him, you recognized the color, head shape, and eyes immediately. It was Smaug… _your_ Smaug. The tales you were told were true and you couldn’t be more disappointed than you were in that moment. 

Quickly you formulated a plan. If Smaug proved that he couldn’t be reasoned with, then you would have to wipe yourself from his memory, and that of the dwarves, and consult your runes that you brought with you on your other options to rein him back in. Regardless of if he would go with you willingly or not, he would need to be punished. 

You looked into the face of a full grown dragon, recognizing the eyes of the hatchling you once knew, but saw a stranger staring back at you. 

This wasn’t the Smaug you once knew.

 

* * *

 

“You,” Smaug sneers hatefully. 

“You remember me?” It sounded more like a statement than a question.

“I haven’t thought of you in decades, witch.” 

That was a lie. 

In fact, Smaug often thought of his former caretaker and repeatedly despaired how she abandoned him and cast him out without just cause. She told him she favored him, that he was special -- so very special -- to her. And then she abandoned him alone and confused in a world that feared and hated his kind. For as long as he could remember he treasured her, and with her gone… it left him exquisitely empty. That day had haunted him for years, though he was loathe to admit it. Despair had turned into anger and from that anger birthed a deep resentment towards the woman that burned hotter than his internal flames ever could hope to meet. 

Smaug was just a young drake without a clue all those years ago, but look at him now! He was legendary and famous! Who needed a witch when he had a mountain, treasure, and a kingdom all his own. Smaug had everything. Well, almost everything... 

The pain he endured in his loneliness was not so easily replaced with a surplus of stolen material goods, no matter how shiny or precious the metals. Smaug felt something missing in his world, and that small thing was forcibly kept somewhere deep and dark inside of him that he never bothered to touch. But it grew more dangerous and fierce the longer they were parted. But now it fluttered beneath the surface with _her_ here. 

Seeing the first thing he ever treasured had roused something deep and primal in his soul -- a trigger to the ticking time bomb he didn’t even know was waiting to erupt. And by the Valar, did it erupt. She was the missing piece to his insatiable contentment. The one thing he wanted to have but couldn’t -- the companion he needed but lost. And now she was just within his reach. He wanted to have her. No, he _needed_ to have her! But he was conflicted with his emotions and her betrayal, and was thus torn on how to react accordingly let alone sort through his feelings. But one thing was certain. She would not be leaving his den.

The witch remained unaffected by his words. Cooly standing there unafraid and untouched by the indifference as if they haven’t been part for decades upon decades. And didn’t that just burn him up! The nerve of her to stand before him in all his triumph, magnificence and glory and have such audacity to… to just… behave so cavalierly and unimpressed. The insolence! 

What prompted him such a visit anyway, he wondered. She never felt the need to beseech him before so why now after all this time? Had she come to apologize? Offer him praise or something else equally unwanted? He would say he didn’t care but that would be another lie, even towards himself.

There had been talk of those approaching his mountain in interest, however. Perhaps this was what his little birds were advising him on in their daily news reports. 

“Why have you come?” his deep cavernous voice rumbled between the walls around them. He quite liked the sound of it filling the room. It made him feel strong and powerful; capable, unlike the young drake she rejected. He recalled a time when he could only fit half the space with his body but he had grown to fill it so nicely. The witch looked so small in the grandness of the room, and as he took the sight of her in he noticed that she hadn’t changed in the slightest in her appearance, unlike him.

“I had to see for myself if the stories were true. I didn’t believe them.”

Smaug chuckled darkly and slithered himself to the center of the room and expanded his wings with pride, “And do you believe them now, witch?”

He watched her expression, feeling a surge of triumph when he saw (and smelled) sadness there. Good. He wanted her to hurt. He wanted to feast on it and keep her here forever. At least... that's what the dark voice in his head wanted. 

“What happened to the dragon I raised? The Smaug I knew was better than this.”

His eyes flashed and he stood taller so as to tower over her; Smaug felt the need to intimidate the witch, for only she could have the power to make him feel small -- and that simply would not sit with him after the hell she already put him through. Not that he cared. Really, he didn’t. Not one wee little bit. 

“The dragon _you_ raised?” he spat venomously.

Okay, fine. She hit a sore spot and he almost broke because of it. He had to compose himself. Before any weakness could be shown, he slithered himself to another part of the treasure room, wanting badly to both fling her across the hall with a flick of his tail and place her on the pile right beside his resting place so he could always have her close by -- that impulse only infuriated him more. As if having her around again would make all his troubles and memories and regurgitated hurt go away. 

He recovered with a smooth voice, “Poor choice of words. If you have come down from your little hovel just to rekindle old memories from ages past, I’m afraid you wasted your trip. Now tell the truth: why have you come?”

She didn’t answer at first. Instead she looked around the room. His eyes remained fixed on her every move as she twirled slowly. 

“Are you happy here?” she asked eventually. 

He wasn’t expecting that but tilted his head inquiringly. “What do you think?”

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I think I’m mighty confused right now. I was hoping you find your own territory and settle down doing some good for the world. You weren't like other dragons.”

“Really?” he snorted. “Is that the future you envisioned when you abandoned me in the wilderness to fend for myself?”

She craned her face to look up at him and creased her brows, “You didn’t need my protection anymore, Smaug. I released you back where you belonged.”

“Where I belonged!” he growled, anger rising. 

She regarded him curiously after a pause, “This place isn't good for you; I know you were happy in my acres. Do you want to come back with me?”

He laughed then. Good and loud. How dare she ask such a thing of him! The thought of leaving his territory and riches just to go back to her land with his tail between his legs like some obedient dog enraged him. But then again… the thought of never seeing her again would reopen the void Smaug was feeling all these years away from her. His nature was to hoard those he found most precious and valuable, so her staying with him proved less ridiculous a proposal. But with their history he couldn’t stand the idea of it, though it was heavily considered anyway.

Mulling over the past when he was on his own was foggy; he barely could remember what he was supposedly taught by her, but there was something... The only thing he remembered clearly after he was on his own was a fiery eye guiding him where he needed to be -- to his mountain. It flashed in his mind's eye just then when he tried to remember the life he lived when living with Y/N and the influence the eye had made the dragon lash out. 

“And do what? Leave my mountain and riches just to return as your previously discarded, unwanted _pet?_ I think not! I claimed my territory and did plenty good for the world: those dwarves would have been corrupted by their precious arkenstone had I not intervened and taken it away from them. I will not leave for anything or anyone. But if it is my company you seek, you’re better off remaining here. Though, that won’t come without its repercussions, you understand. Unless...”

Smaug turned and gazed at her accusingly. “Unless you just want to take it all away from me. My gold, my treasures, the arkenstone, my _mountain..._ ” He wouldn’t put it past her. She was his whole world and she had taken that away from him once, what would stop her from taking this, too?

“No, Smaug! I don’t want any of this. You need to give the dwarves back their mountain. This was not yours to take and you know damn well this was nowhere near ‘good’ for the realm of Middle Earth! What happened to you?” she insisted. 

He didn’t like the way his name fell so familiarly on her lips. Or the power she had behind it. Or the fact that she implied dwarves were here to take back what he had stolen from them. Were they sneaking around? He couldn’t focus enough to sniff them out; his eyes were captured by his flesh-covered treasure. 

She continued, “Smaug, you know this is wrong. You know you were meant for so much more than this! If you would just come back with me, we can--”

“Silence!” he roared, extending his head high in the air to appear as large and imposing as possible. “Who are you to think you can make such audace demands? I answer to no one! And I shall take great pleasure in reminding you why a little witch should never play with fire.”

His chest shimmered alight with the promise of flames. Smoke billowed out of his mouth as he grinned evilly at her. And she had the gull to open her arms wide, her purple cloak expanding like wings, to challenge him.

“So you’ve indicated. Here I stand.” 

With his bluff called, the smoke evaporated in a whiff but his chest remained lit in anger. Smaug growled like thunder and angled his face mere feet away and enunciated his words with fierce pride, too angry to care or think about what he was saying, “I am Smaug The Terrible, King Under the Mountain. I have lain waste to Erebor’s best warriors, devoured their flesh like the lambs they are, pillaged Laketown and all their vermin humans. I do not answer to you, witch! This mountain is mine and I have no intention of leaving and will not permit thievery in my hold. Now, I will impart you on a rare mercy while my patience still stands. Get. Out. If I ever catch your scent in my nose again I’ll roast you into ash and blow you to the wind!”

With that he turned away, burying his body back into his beloved spoils. Smaug curled in on himself, seething with rage and immediately regretting the words he just spoke -- he didn’t want her to go. He didn’t want to burn her to a crisp, either. Why bother threatening her at all? Well… because even though he was upset a part of him was still prepared to force her into staying to anyway. Even now his skin was itching to keep her there with him. He wouldn’t part with a single coin in his treasure horde, and he wouldn’t allow her to leave him again. Not again…

Y/N didn’t utter a single reply, but he knew when she had gone when he could no longer smell her and the sounds of her feet resulted in trickling coins grew still. And before he could think, he jacked his body up to make a grab for her, but he suddenly forgot why he was so angry in the first place and what he was reaching for. There wasn’t anyone here -- he was alone as he always was. And he couldn't remember what he was doing.

Did he have a bad dream? Smaug shook it off, perplexed. But he felt an aching anxiety in his heart… like something precious was just stolen away from him again. His mood darkened to black as he slithered back under his gold.

 

* * *

 

Pain. Disorientation. Nausea. 

Those were all the things Smaug was feeling at the moment. It was almost like he was in a dream, which was ridiculous because after speaking to that thief of a halfling, he was on his way to--

Confusion, a fun new addition to the group, tore through him as he awoke fully. Smaug couldn’t recall losing consciousness (and if he had when) but as his eyes adjusted, they landed on the one person he didn’t expect to see. The witch was twisting water out of her hair, with her back facing him. She was wet all over and was murmuring cooing words to a wild horse which busied itself with eating grass. His heart thundered in his chest. It’s been years since he’d last seen her! What was she doing here--

All at once, memories flooded back to him -- memories that she took: her arrival in his mountain, their argument, her leaving. And everything that followed after until he lost consciousness.

Smaug sat up, ready to blast her with fire when he noticed something was frighteningly wrong. He did he come to be here? Laketown… he remembered flying to Laketown to pay those wretched humans a visit and wreak some havoc, laughing as they fought fruitlessly to ward him off while he set their precious town ablaze. But something happened after that… he was shot at by a large arrow. Had he become stunned and fallen into the water? Looking over his shoulder, the town was now in the distance. He must have glided quite far out but that didn’t explain why the witch was soaked from head to toe on the shore with him. 

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Y/N said. 

Smaug whipped his head in her direction and snarled and then he froze as another frightening realization ripped through him. The world was suddenly smaller. Why was she so large all of a sudden? And why couldn’t he smell her clearly? _Ah, so the witch had some tricks up her sleeve after all,_ he thought bitterly. 

“Putting a spell on yourself just to meet my level won’t protect you from--” he stopped short and looked down at himself in horror. His voice was not his own, and the spell she had cast was not on herself but him!

“What--what have you done to me?!” Smaug shouted as he looked down at himself in a form he didn’t recognize. Rage fueled him anew as he charged at the witch with ferocious intent. “ _What have you done--_ ” Before he could even touch her, an invisible force knocked him backwards and he crumbled to the ground landing on his backside. He surveyed his arms; his small, dainty, disgustingly human arms as they shook violently in his dumbfoundment.

“Punished you for your crimes,” she responded sternly. “From now on, you can’t hurt anybody or cause harm to any more towns or kingdoms -- or mountains. Enjoy your new form, Smaug. Until you atone for your heinous acts and we cleanse you back to what I thought I already taught you, you’re stuck this way for good.”  

“You foul, wretched, loathsome hag!” he screamed. 

She rolled her eyes and continued ringing out her soaked clothes before mounting the horse who eyed him carefully.  

Y/N waved his insults off and impatiently waited for him to follow her. “Yeah, yeah. Now hurry up, we have a long way back to my ‘little hovel’ and I’d like to get an early start.” As far as Smaug was concerned, she had no right to sound as annoyed as she did. Let alone give him commands! 

Stumbling and wobbling to his feet and finding it hard to balance on his new legs, Smaug glared and bared fangs he no longer had, “I’m going nowhere with you!”

She cocked an eyebrow at him and leveled her stare. He despised having to look up at her -- he was a dragon! Dragons always look down on everything they see, not the other way around, curse it all! 

“It is in your best interest to do as I say. Smaug… ugh, I’m so disappointed in you and I am _not_ in the mood. After the awful things you pulled, you’re lucky you weren’t turned into a toad. Or a chair. Consider that _my_ impart of mercy to you.”

He had it with her insolence and mockery and charged for her again with an angry growl. Before he could lay a hand on her, that same invisible force of power knocked him back to the ground in pain. He groaned in agony as he clutched his head, bewildered, confused, belligerent, and frustrated.

“What sort of bloody witchcraft did you do to me?” he said through clenched teeth.

“I’m not going to ask you again. We can talk about it on the way, if you wish, but right now we’re leaving.”

Feeling like the weakest creature in all existence being reduced to such a pitiful, mortal state coupled with his hatred and resentment of being subject to the one being he never wanted to see again, he couldn’t stop the tears that flowed from his eyes. Abhorring the way they smelled and felt running down his cheeks. 

“I hate you, I hate you…” he whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would have been gargantuan condensed into 1 chapter; originally, I wrote it to be that way but there were so many line breaks to cover over a broad expanse of time that didn't give proper focus to the relationship improving between you and Smaug, so the next chapter will be more focused around that. Stay tuned for part 2! <3


	16. My Treasure (SmaugxReader) Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smaug finally understands what Y/N was trying so hard to tell him all along. And now that he's finally free of the darkness that clouded his vision, he's now forced to deal with some new emotions he's been harboring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some steam.
> 
> (Part 2 of 2.)  
> If you want a visual reference for what Smaug looks like post-punishment, here's a talented artist's beautiful portrait that I loosely based it on (just without the ears, fangs, and claws): https://www.deviantart.com/brilcrist/art/SmaugLock-364421511
> 
> Meh. Still had to use line breaks, but I hope I was able to build their relationship effectively despite this being a bit of a whopper chapter. Like, a double whopper. (Sorry... it is LONG.)
> 
> I had a blast working on this even though it was originally supposed to be more of an obsession fic than a romance, but Foxx was on board with the possibility after we talked through some concepts, but this was the one my mind wanted me to run with and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out for the characters -- everyone deserves a second chance! But I hope you like it, Foxx! ;A; if not, I'll happily do another request that's more to your liking.

Five months…

It took them a total of five long blasted months to arrive at Y/N’s humble abode from the Laketown area.

For Smaug, the only way the awful trip could have possibly taken any longer or have gone any worse would be if he was forced to ride on the horse with the witch for the duration of their travels. But as luck would serve, the spell she put on him had resulted in saving both their asses from enduring that. He didn’t even want to look at her, but he still retained some form of his obsession that he always had with the woman. He may not want to see her at present, but he had to be close to her. 

Smaug was ready to tear her head off any chance he could get, too, courtesy of the dark whispers still floating around his mind -- which, given his little magical restraint, rendered that impossible to accomplish. And painful. So he footed it the entire way with a scowl. Smaug didn’t particularly enjoy walking even as a dragon, but on legs he wasn’t accustomed to using made the experience all the more uncomfortable. Each day his legs and calves ached and throbbed with fatigue and he couldn’t fathom how he would be able to make it there without the witch needing to lug him behind her like killed prey, but slowly he became stronger and more accustomed to them. 

Smaug’s pent up aggression served no outlet. He couldn’t attack, or quarrel, and -- blazes -- he couldn’t even hunt his own food! The witch’s spell had rendered him harmless; totally and completely harmless. He couldn't maim or injure a single living thing and the witch catching their meals and feeding him further stoked his rage of the incompetence he was subject to. 

His pride had demanded that he refuse her food, but his human biology had other plans. This weakened form needed to be sustained (and often) if he were to ever deliberate how to change back to his former self, or at the very least break this wretched curse she put on him.

He gave up the useless (and agonizing) attempts at touching her and they barely spoke to each other for the first few days. She seemed especially tired and exhausted for a good long while, like she was conserving her strength. Smaug figured she had probably overdone her magic use and needed to recharge -- he recalled something similar happening back when he used to live with her as a hatchling.

Some nights he found himself watching over her sleeping form glaring angrily at her, but he felt a rather comforting sense of calm in her presence that he clung to desperately in retrospect. He ached for his mountain and it nearly killed him being away from his treasure, but watching the witch and keeping her within sight soothed him from his withdrawals and redirected his focus. Additionally, the lure of the fiery eye that loomed over him for so long was starting to affect him less and less. 

After Y/N recharged fully, she had gotten the insane idea to try to have a civil conversation with Smaug as if nothing happened. She explained how she saved him from getting pierced with the black arrow Bard shot, casting an illusion to make it seem as if he had met his doom in the water while she transformed him into his current form and dragged him off to safety. 

But he would not indulge in talk with her; he hated this form when she refused to change him back, his answers remained short or nonexistent. Undeterred, Y/N continued to talk to him and he gave her little to nothing in response. But he did enjoy the sound of her calming voice, and became more in tune with his thoughts which had become clearer and clearer the farther they traveled from Erebor. His obsession with the gold, unbeknownst to him, was slowly shifting away to peel back to his core obsession: the witch. But he was too upset with her still, blinded by a misunderstanding, to realize it. 

 _Fires below, this place hasn’t changed at all,_ Smaug thought as he took the land in. 

The witch’s house, more like a glorified stone hut with an impressive chimney than anything, resided in the center of the green grassy field. Off to the right and several yards away were stables, a barn, and three sheds all the same size that contained tools and animal feed -- just as he remembered. 

And then to the left -- yes, there it was -- her vegetable garden. He recognized the sizable flower field just a little ways off from the garden where she used to take him for-- nope, he wasn’t opening that pesky little book of memories. 

Y/N dismounted her horse and gave it an affectionate slap on its rear and watched it gallop off to join the other horse currently munching on the haystacks near the stables. 

“Home sweet home!” She sighed happily, stretching her arms over her head and angling her body so that it would travel down her spine. 

Smaug sneered. He recalled a time he would have given anything to live here with her forever. But that was before she abandoned him. Home sweet home? There was nothing homey or sweet about any of this. 

 

* * *

 

After the witch tended to her animals, she showed Smaug his room and left him to it. He panicked when she was gone, but it soothed when he heard her just in the other room humming to herself. Curse it all! He growled to himself for wanting to be near her in spite of how upset he was. This was all so new to him.

He needed to change focus. Okay, let’s see… ah, a mirror. 

Disgust boiled through Smaug’s veins as he took in his reflection in the mirror for the first time since he was changed. His human form repulsed him greatly and he wondered if Y/N had any hand in arranging his appearance. His deep red scale colors made up the hue of his hair, his skin had a healthy glow but remained more on the fair side than not. At least his eyes were still that golden yellow. 

Long, clawless fingers touched his high cheekbones and pressed on the soft, malleable flesh of his skin. He had furr -- no, the human term was “beard” -- on his face that he didn’t care for that matched the color of his shaggy locks. It was rather itchy and bothersome, so he gave it a scratch. He was a tall male and towered over Y/N’s form easily, but he was still considerably tiny compared to what he was used to. The world was certainly smaller from the eyes of a human. Blazes… he didn’t know how the hairless rats managed like this! 

Locking eyes with himself, he growled and turned away before he broke the damn thing to pieces and observed his new living space. It was a sizable room for someone of his size, he supposed. A bed cot was arranged against the far wall, a dresser on the opposite side, a wash bin in one corner and a plant in another, a closet stood adjacent to the bedroom door with a deep red curtain dressed above it. A hand stitched circular rug the color of fall resided in the center. And a large window with the same deep red curtains on either side was open, giving him a spectacular view of the flower field that was encompassed by trees in the distance. 

The withdraw he felt from being apart from his gold was a dull ache in his chest now. He admitted to missing his heaps of treasure, but he did feel strangely freer here and more at peace. Maybe that was because of--

Suddenly needing to know what the witch was up to, Smaug rubbed his chest and quickly exited the room in search of her. She met him in the kitchen, drying her hands off with a towel. She offered a small smile and he narrowed his eyes, though not unkindly. That smile had bloomed warmth in his chest. He rubbed at it again, wondering if it was more magic she was directing at his body to keep him mellow and content. It scared him and he didn’t like feeling this helpless before her.  

“I’ll fix us with something to eat. But first I’ll give you a shave; you’ve been scratching at that thing since it grew in.” She dragged over a chair in front of her and patted it, “Have a seat.”

Another smile from her made his heart leap up to her throat. Why were her eyes shining like that? The fire in the room had set them aglow and Smaug stared into them as if in a trance. So pretty--

He shook _that_ ridiculous thought off. It was a trick. Another trick. It had to be. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked. He didn't understand her disposition towards him and was rather annoyed by it. 

Her eyebrows popped up in genuine surprise, “Breaking your vow of silence? I’m glad! I’d let you shave on your own, but I’m going to throw out a guess that you don’t know how, that’s why.”

Smaug groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache brewing behind his skull. Then scratched at the irksome beard, wanting to be rid of it. He acquiesced with visible difficulty and sat his rear down in the chair in front of her.

He heard her moving behind him, but the anxiety of not seeing her or what she was doing made him nervous. But soon her hands returned to drape the damp rag around his neck and shoulders and she proceeded through the very strange process of preparing his face for this "shaving." 

She drew out a small blade and regarded him seriously. “I’m going to shave off the hair on your face now. Don’t get any funny ideas, this is really sharp. I don’t want to slice you open because you’re feeling testy. Are you going to behave?”

He nodded because he couldn’t really do much else and was going to be completely at the witch's mercy. Smaug didn’t know what to expect from this at first, but being shaved was such a relief. The itching was finally gone and he actually closed his eyes in bliss at her precise ministrations as she went along. A gentle tilt of his chin here, a touch of his cheek there had him tingling all over; he wanted more. The witch hadn’t had her hands on him in quite a long time and his body practically preened for her touch as he gripped the arms of the chair hard enough to make them creak. That odd feeling in his chest amplified, and he let out a shaking breath. But it was over before he knew what happened and he cleaned up the rest of his face with the damp rag she offered him when she was done. 

Her tender care for him brought him back in time and he momentarily forgot all past hurts; they were right back where they started when it was nothing but fondness and he wondered if she felt anything with being so close to him. 

Smaug should have known that the contentment he felt would be short-lived. As soon as she was done, he looked to her with hooded eyes just to see her back facing him. Dismissing him. And all at once the resentment he had been keeping in flared up at full force again. He felt such hurt. 

How could she do this to him? Abandon him, not a word for too many years, drag him back here just to punish him and… for what? Toy with him? Smaug had every intention of finding out if he had anything to do with it. He couldn’t take it anymore.

 

* * *

 

You didn’t know what to expect when you brought Smaug back with you. Violence, yeah (that’s why you cast that spell on him), but resentment? Hatred towards you specifically? Where was _that_ coming from? Seeing Smaug again after all this time made you so happy but you couldn’t help but wonder what happened to him from the time you let him go to now to cause such anguish. You remembered that day vividly and it broke your heart all over again. 

Smaug was happy in your land, but he was still a young dragon and would eventually outgrow the place. As he matured, he would have desires to seek his own den and covet whatever he deemed suitable for his treasure, eventually getting those male urges to find a mate. He’d be bored here; obtaining none of what healthy dragons should have. You stuck by helping train him to fly and based on what your runes read that one fateful morning, today was the day to watch him soar to new lands.

You’d grown so fond of having Smaug around and he seemed just as fond of you. But like so many others that you cared for, it didn’t matter how closely you bonded with them. As soon as they were released back into the wild, they took off without looking back, never to be seen or heard from again. Smaug’s departure had… hit you particularly hard. The truth was you were lonely. You enjoyed what you did but it's not like you had any friends. Your friends were your "patients", but when Smaug entered your life, you thought all of that would change when you felt that special connection with him. You should have known...

A part of you hoped to see your dragon find his way back to you on his own, just to pop in for a visit, but he never did. 

And now that very dragon was right here sitting across from you after you made dinner. Sure, he was in another form but he may as well be as distant from you as Erebor in terms of reaching him. Smaug’s golden eyes were hard and calculating staring down at his plate pushing the meat around. Taking the littlest nibbles with all the interest of it being made of glass.

Your special Smaug… 

When you found his abandoned egg during one of your hikes, you vowed you’d raise him to be good. Dragons were often bred for evil doers, raised for dark armies. You were determined to raise Smaug for the greatest good of the realm of Middle Earth as a protector. The fact that he even took part in any type of calamity was painful to learn. Maybe dragons were just more susceptible to darkness than you thought and it was only natural thatSmaug fell prey to it. Or maybe you released him too early? No, the runes said it was time. But he was special -- you felt it in your bones the moment you held him fresh from the egg and you knew he was special even now. He _was_ good. But something happened to him. You just had to find a way to reach that goodness again.

Setting down your utensils, you rested your chin in your palm watching his narrowed brows cast a dark shadow over his eyes. 

“What’s on your mind, Smaug?” you asked, hoping he’d choose to talk to you again. Using his fork there was more poking and pushing his food around but then he dropped it on the wooden table with a clunk. His eyes lifted to yours and held your stare. 

“Change me back,” he said for the thousandth time. 

 You sighed. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Won’t, not can’t,” he snapped. 

“That’s what being punished tends to imply,” you admitted gently. You watched him grunt and shift focus back to food he was no longer even remotely interested in. “If it helps at all, you make quite the handsome--”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Smaug jabbed his knife at you before sitting back and crossing his arms. “This form is weak and embarrassing; humans are a worthless, greedy lot. And I have nothing to apologize for -- I am not ashamed of anything I’ve done.”

“Then you obviously won’t be changing back any time soon. What you did was wrong.”

"I can do no wrong, for I am superior to all: to dwarves, to elves, foolish humans," he paused and flicked his glowing eyes in your direction, "and witches."

Your stare leveled on him sternly, "Not anymore."

He growled something under his breath then. Something you were probably not meant to hear, but you did anyway. And it wasn't anything pleasant. Where in the Void did he learn such language?

"Why do you hate me so much?" Your words were barely above a whisper but given the crushing, uncomfortable quiet in your home, you knew Smaug heard you just fine. His lips curled back to reveal a cruel smile accompanied with a deep, dark snicker that lacked anything akin to humor. If you weren't assured that his spell was still in tact you would have been very afraid of him. But the hurt had overrode any fright you were feeling; he truly did detest you with every fiber of his being long before you even changed him into a human form. 

"You really are a clueless, cold, wretched creature. How fitting you wouldn't have the foggiest idea."

"I just don't understand what could have happened from when I set you free to now that garnered such--"

A massive fist banged onto the table, stealing your words away. “You abandoned me!” 

The force and power in his voice had you sitting back in your chair. Confused by his words and the amount of pain was laced in his venomous tone, you softened your gaze on him, trying to understand. “I released you; I raised you and treated you as I would have any other beast I’ve taken in. You were old enough and it was time for you to see the world.”

“But you said I was…” He stopped himself and the word “special” sprung to mind. You often told him how special he was and now you had a better idea of why he was so upset, but there was still more to it that didn't make sense to you. Smaug had planted both palms on the table and rose to his feet and you sensed a change in the air. He was withdrawing; you knew there was some pent-up aggression inside of him he was trying to get out but you wanted to talk about this now. He was already making his way out.

“Please, sit back down and let’s talk about this! You've been in that mountain far too long. It’s tainted you. As a lover of beasts, I felt it my duty to step in to cleanse you from the evil you curled up with. Help me understand what happened.”

Smaug pivoted on his heel with his golden eyes wide with incredulity. “Your duty? To punish me and drag me back here? Do you care for any of your _beloved_ beasts at all? You raise us with lies and farce and then when _you_ deem us 'ready', you abandon us into the wild without a second thought."

You stood to your feet, summoning strength to be calm and not engage in this anger he was trying to rip from you. You’ve already told him that you didn’t abandon him, you released him -- but having told him that several times, he already knows. You decided to try something else and open yourself to vulnerability. Keeping it professional was only proving to push you both further apart, so you decided to react in the way of friendship and get more personal.

“I..." You tried again when your voice cracked. "I missed you. Why didn’t you ever come back to visit me?” 

Smaug recoiled and then huffed, “Why would I come back? Like you've said: I didn’t need you anymore.” He said nothing further and retreated into his room taking all of the air in the cottage with him.

 

* * *

 

“You cut your hair…” you exclaimed. He seemed especially proud of his handiwork, and rightfully so, as he strode out of his room. He did a great job. He looked… well, he looked very handsome. Sometimes you forgot that he was ever a dragon and had to scold yourself for slipping up.

“I did.”

Your eyes drifted to his smooth face. “No more goatee?”

Smaug shrugged, his eyes quickly darting to the side, as if he were nervous. “I prefer to be cleanly shaven. The hair… I do not like it on my face.”

“It suits you. I like it better this way.”

Smaug gave a sharp harrumph but said nothing else. But this innocuous conversation was progress. Definitely progress between you. 

It’s been two months since that dinner conversation and you continued your life as you normally did. Caring for injured animals and tending to your land. Neither of you brought it up again since but in some strange way, you both found a way to coexist with one another in relative harmony again as the days went on. 

Not knowing what else to do, you decided to treat him with love and kindness and half expected an even greater distance to wedge itself between you and Smaug after he made his thoughts about you clear, but strangely he never left your side. It almost seemed like he _wanted_ to be near you. Being close to him was a great comfort to you and watching him acclimate himself to being a human was fascinating from a scientific standpoint, but what pleased you most was that Smaug seemed to be genuinely happy here. Except when you confronted him about it. Then he’d get all huffy, combative, and storm off -- heart to hearts were never up for discussion. But there were times you’d see him working on a chore or taking rest outdoors and he had this peculiar smile on his face as if he were content and it caused your heart to flutter in your chest seeing this new side of him. You sensed no further darkness in him that didn’t belong to there -- because everyone had a bit of darkness in them; the external forces were no longer in control of him now. 

Though Smaug still withheld a sort of resentment towards you for “abandoning” him in the past, you worked over it in your own ways and you learned not to press him and give him his space about it -- when you did that, he approached you to tell you whatever it was that was on his mind, whenever he was ready. Eventually, you hoped you would revisit the discussion you had two months ago, but you weren’t going to press your luck for that. That was the one subject Smaug avoided at every turn. 

Turning to the once frail, baby bird you rescued and raised you asked, "You ready? Is today the day?" An excited chirping promptly followed. It was all too eager to hop in your hands as you checked its wings a final time to confirm everything looked okay. You were happy to see this healthy, chipper bird bouncing around in your palms so giddily, but your heart became sore with the knowledge that today _was_ the day. You'd have to set him free and it would never come back. 

Being basically immortal and ageless, you didn’t think you’d need friends. Why bother? They would eventually die and leave you behind over and over again. But as the centuries churned on, you couldn’t help but feel lonely. You wanted a friend, a companion, a life partner. There weren’t many others like yourself and the very few that existed all preferred solitary lives, completely absorbed in their own talents of managing the weather, recording the passage of time of those of great importance, and so on. 

You took comfort in the fleeting company of your animals. You always had an aptitude for healing, so you focused your skills on that thinking this was better than nothing. They were pure of heart, wild and innocent. And it still hurt every time you got close to them because somewhere down the line you knew you would have to set them free and you’d be alone again.

That’s why you never named your creatures. If you named them, the hurt would strike you more fiercely. But _he_ was special… the only creature you ever bothered to name was--

“Don’t get used to it,” Smaug mumbled to the hopping bird. “She’ll fill your head with lovey nonsense and then shirk you back out like the little nothing you are.”

“Smaug!” you scolded, startling the bird into a chirping fit of distress. “Shh, shh… it’s okay! It’s all right, shh.”

Smaug stood over you and crossed his arms. 

“If you’re going to just stand around you can at least make yourself useful and help,” you hissed at him. “For someone who seems to despise my very existence, you sure spend a lot of your time attached to my hip.” 

That seemed to have taken him aback. You’d never said anything like that to him before, certainly not in that flighty tone, but you were sick and tired of him saying shit like that and then refusing to talk about it in depth. You were hurting about that day, too, but you weren’t constantly flinging your heartbreak in his face and then refusing to talk about it. He scrambled for words to say before his face hardened as he pointed. “I’ll get the bird some water and the traveling cage. Don’t move.”

He’s been acting curiouser and curiouser as the weeks rolled along. Neither of you tried to bring up that last conversation again (as much as you wanted to), and you made small talk whenever you could. He didn’t seem to like you very much, and yet every time you turned around, he was right there. Never leaving your side. The moment you even tried to get some time to yourself, he’d become very agitated and insist on accompanying you. Maybe he was hoping the spell was weakening and was looking for an opening to attack. Who knew.  

You may have worked with dragons in the past, but Smaug was the one and only dragon you hatched and raised from birth, so you weren’t sure what this behavior was -- all the other dragons didn’t behave this way towards you at all. But then again, you hadn’t turned them human and tore them away from their dens in the name of justice for the land.

You sighed as you waited for Smaug to return, running your finger up and around the soft feathers on the bird and wondered, if given the choice, would Smaug choose to stay with you if you removed the spell on him? Clearly he was only sticking around because of that. He couldn’t hunt without hurting a living thing and a grown man couldn’t very well live off of berries and vegetation for long. He needed you -- for now. 

But… you needed him, too. For different reasons. You wanted him to stay this time. But you knew that this punishment could only last so long. In time, he would be released from it and you’d be forced to watch him leave for the second time. Your heart broke all over again at the thought, barely speaking a word to him after he returned.

 

* * *

 

Smaug knew immediately when something was wrong. Y/N had never used that tone with him. Ever. But then again, she was always so sensitive whenever it came time to release her creatures. It’s what she does, so what was the big deal? In the past couple months he was her assistant with healing that deer, the bear, the two other birds, and the one hedgehog (which Smaug thought to be an annoying, ungrateful little jerk when it bit her, even though it was pretty funny) but this was the first animal Smaug watched her raise since infancy and he did happen to notice that she cared for it a little differently than the others. 

Y/N seemed more attached and bonded to this bird than her other patients. Bonded like he thought she had with him. Old memories -- some of his earliest ones -- of when they were together had often slipped through his mind as he watched on and helped the witch however he could. But he never touched the animals or her, not even when she became injured. He didn’t touch for fear of being projected backwards with a throbbing headache. It aggravated him to no end. What were they to do if she was mortally wounded somehow? How could he possibly protect her then--

"Why would I...? What is she to me?" Smaug asked himself. He was annoyed at not being able to touch her not for the sake of harming her, but because he wanted to feel her and tend to her should anything happen. When had that happened? That ache in his chest had started up again at the thought of her possibly needing serious medical help, and all Smaug would be able to do is just stand there. He rubbed furiously at his chest to ward off the sick feeling of fear. No, she was strong and careful. But still, he worried. 

Smaug didn’t realize how starved for touch he could become until that right had been taken away from him; he could only accept touching from others, never offer it. Damnable witch… He wanted to be angry with her, and he was a little, but even that was slowly dissipating. Often times now, he found himself craving her fleeting touches whenever she would be bandaging up her patients and he’d pass cloth over to her, or brushing fingers with him as she handed his dinner plate over, or touching his shoulder in passing if she needed to squeeze by. He wanted more. And he wanted to return these human gestures with her and offer her comfort while she was hurting. Fires below, what in the Void happened to him? 

He did his best to shake those vexing feelings away as he returned with the cage and water and followed her out to walk down the same path she had taken him when she abandoned him at the cliff. They didn’t make it that far. She had only ventured into the woodsy area and held up the cage to murmur soft words and sweet goodbyes. As they ventured outside, a crack of thunder burst through the sky. Without thinking, Smaug looked up and quickly shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her being mindful of touching her directly, lest he get propelled backwards, as the first few drops of rain began to fall. The words of "thank you" passed out of her mouth on autopilot before her brain engaged and she froze before curling further in on herself. Smaug frowned, shifting his gaze to the bird she was focused on and felt a stupid jolt of jealousy run through him. 

“Goodbye, little bird. Be safe,” Y/N said, opening the latch. The bird shot out of its confinements, singing happily as it flew further and further away. Smaug looked to the witch and counted down, waiting for-- ah, there they were. Right on cue. Y/N’s shoulders began to shake softly and the gentle sniffling sound had told him that her tears weren’t far behind. 

An interesting sort of pain squeezed his heart witnessing such sorrow, but he refused to give in to it. He would not be swayed with a witch’s tears. In fact--

“How long have you been doing this? Since the dawn of time? And yet you shed tears each and every time you release these animals?”

Her back was still facing him and she did not respond. By the shaking of her shoulders she was only crying harder. Smaug suddenly filled with anger as he visited the memory of his abandonment once again -- she had no right to cry! She was the one who was doing the releasing, after all! As a dragon, the obvious solution to this problem would be to just harbor the animals and not release them! She could just covet them; she could have coveted _him_! Why didn't she just... covet him like he coveted her?

The incoming rain seemed to want no part of the drama, so the drizzling that had been stirring above had eased to a halt, leaving them both in a layer of dampness. She’d get sick staying at here like that crying over a blasted bird. And Smaug wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it to care and tend to her! Had she no sense?

He shook his head, even though she couldn’t see and he ran a hand through his hair. “Come, Y/N, it’s just a bird, for blazes sake!”

That had only earned him more silence on her part; he had spoken loudly and clearly and she was dutifully ignoring him. The witch took a couple deep breaths as if to calm herself and he sneered, confounded. As if there won't be more ‘little birds’, ‘little deer’, or ‘little hedgehogs’ to care for in the future. Ridiculous. And he’d have to watch the whole interaction all over again. 

“At least you don’t name them. Fires below, the caterwauling would be infinitely more irksome listening to _that_ goodbye.”

“I’ve only ever named one of the creatures I cared for,” she admitted sharply. “And it served me nothing but a wounded heart to this day. I've vowed never to do it again since.”

Smaug opened his mouth to make a snappy remark about which of her beasts she thought fit to name, but the realization hit him so suddenly that he actually staggered back. He was known as Smaug the Terrible; a title he earned on his own, but it was she who had given him the birth name of Smaug.

As if a veil had been lifted, now he understood everything. Sure, Y/N had told him multiple times that her leaving him wasn’t personal, that she cared deeply for him even when she let him go, but seeing for himself had been the thing he needed to finally believe her. 

How could he have not known?

Y/N’s tears were ever-flowing as she watched her bird fly away from her without looking back. Y/N had remained rooted in place staring off as the bird grew smaller and smaller in the distance until well after it left. She had done this thousands of times and yet still she cried... Why? The only conclusion Smaug arrived at was not a single one of her creatures had showed any sign of wanting to stay, had they. Or made any return to her. All Y/N had was her land. The loneliness she must feel...

A memory Smaug had never recalled before barreled to the front of his mind. Whether it was one she had taken from him or one he chose to forget, he didn’t know and he didn’t care. 

He was a young dragon, bounding happily into the wood with Y/N following closely behind. He was nearing the age of maturity and couldn’t even speak Common Tongue yet, but he understood it. She took him through the forest to a cliff ledge and he remembered stretching his wings for the first time with full confidence, ready to take flight. 

He looked back to her nervously. Smaug hadn’t had a successful go at flying yet and the cliff was really high up. But Y/N smiled and encouraged him on. With a leap of faith, he flapped his wings, gave himself a running start and soon he was soaring through the air. Flying! Actually flying! Awkwardly at first, but it came so second nature to him, he wondered why he found it so daunting in the first place. 

Smaug flew circles in the air, loops, twists, and other neat tricks; enjoying the feel of the wind beneath his wings and against his face. He circled back to Y/N, nuzzling her face, not noticing the sadness she quickly wiped away before he could smell it. 

“I hope you find your way back to me someday,” she whispered. He didn’t know what it meant at the time; he was too overcome with the need to explore, to see the world beyond what he knew -- to fly. He leapt back into the air and shot away before getting distracted by some prey lurking down below and his instincts quickly kicked in. A successful dive later and he’d snatched up the deer drinking at the stream at the bottom of the canyon. Smaug launched back into the air, wanting to expand territory and looking back only once; just in time to see Y/N’s back facing him as she disappeared into the forest.

He stalled in the air, confused and scared. Where was she going? Why was she leaving him behind? Smaug called out to her, his cries echoing off the cliff walls until they faded to nothing. He didn’t understand then that she was deeply hurt by setting him free and that her heart was breaking, unable to watch him go due to how close they were. Or maybe she didn’t want him to see her like that because he wouldn’t have left if he did. Which was true. 

No, he didn’t understand then. But he understood now. 

Y/N wiped the tears free from her eyes and turned to face him with a small, sad smile. “Let’s head back.”

Smaug stared at his witch, seeing her for the first time without a dark cloud hanging over him and his heart opened. Then and there he fully -- and finally -- allowed himself to accept the way that he felt. Despite the repercussions of what he was about to do, Smaug approached Y/N suddenly, driven by a deep impulse he didn’t quite understand but could no longer ignore.

She obviously caught the look he must be wearing on his face. “What’s wrong?” she sniffled. 

As he drew closer and closer still, he resulted in backing her into a tree. He hoped this would work but braced himself for the pain if it all went wrong, but he had a sort of epiphany that he wouldn’t have deemed worthy to try out before now. With no ill-intent whatsoever, he gently took both of her wrists and held them beside her face. When no force thrust him backwards and no pain overtook him, Smaug smiled, directing the warmth sizzling in his blood in his expression. Y/N looked up at him torn between helplessness and fright. But she had no reason to fear here. Not from him. Not ever again.

 

* * *

 

“I mean you no harm,” Smaug said, even though his being able to put his hands on you made that fact blatantly obvious. But still you struggled, caught off guard on not knowing what he planned to do at this close proximity that couldn’t possibly be threatening. There was an intense, fiery fierceness in his golden eyes that intimidated you (and excited you in some strange way) and you weren’t sure what to make of it as he held your wrists at either side of your face in a gentle, firm hold. 

You couldn’t believe that he was actually touching you. And in your shock, you couldn’t believe that you actually liked it. No one had ever touched you like this before and it was far from unpleasant. 

“You’re trembling. Why are you afraid?” he asked softly. That was a great question, actually. You didn’t know why you were trembling but to do him one better, why _weren’t_ you afraid? Why weren’t you afraid of him being able to touch you? The spell you had cast on him was structured to tame any violent urges he underwent to ensure the safety of others. But since he was still a human with the ability to touch you, did this mean he no longer held any hostility towards you? The thought of that made you extremely happy and hopeful.

His face hovered above yours so closely and you could feel the heat rolling off of him in waves. This was the closest to Smaug in this form that you had ever been and taking in his appearance at such a close quarters had made you blush. You couldn’t deny that this was quite an attractive male form and he smelled so spicy and enticing to your senses. And your traitorous body had begun to respond to it; loosening you up and turning your legs to liquid. Confused by these culminated feelings, you chalked it up to your emotions being unbalanced with releasing the bird in conjunction with him being able to touch you for the first time. 

“Smaug…?” 

“I mean you no harm, there’s something I need to say. Please don’t run from me.”

You gulped at his soft tone, “Okay, I won’t.”

He dipped his head lower like he wasn’t sure what to do and soon your wrists were released and he placed his hands on either side of your head instead, as if he were afraid you might bolt anyway. He delicately tilted your face up to look at him. “I didn’t understand before… I was young and blinded by hurt and rage but after this, I see now.” 

“See what?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. 

Smaug leaned down the rest of the way so that his cheek nuzzled on top of your head and his long limbs slipped from your face to draw your smaller body into his own holding you by the back of your head and your lower back while you did nothing to stop him. The hug felt curiously tender. Almost intimate. And he held onto you tightly while you were more than eager to return the favor. The immense comfort you were being given was a healing power all its own and you soaked it up greedily. Having been a healer for so many people and beasts, you didn’t realize that you had been neglecting yourself of such placating effects. No wonder others sought your comfort; this felt so nice.

But it’s not like you had anyone to offer this to you even when you did need it... you were alone, after all. But now that you had it, you soaked the embrace into your very being. The hug effectively squeezed more tears out of you, though they were a mixture of relief, sadness and happiness combined into one. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Smaug whispered into your hair. “I didn’t see your heartbreak when you released me until I saw it in your face just now. Back then I only saw you walking away and in my mind, that meant you were abandoning me. But you cried when I left, didn’t you. You cared enough to mourn my departure, hoping that I would return but knew that I wouldn’t. Just like all the others, even though you saw me as special.”

You squeezed him tighter, new tears springing to your eyes that you desperately tried to blink away to no avail. His embrace was something you desperately needed but never had access to and you clung to him as a child would its mother. _Or a lover..._ a lonely part of you whispered, bewitched by Smaug's human-like appearance. 

“I didn’t want you to see. You were special, Smaug. You still are. Releasing you hurt worse than every other creature I ever raised. You wouldn’t have ever left if you saw.”

You both felt and heard him chuckle at that. “You’re probably right. But then I wouldn’t have terrorized and pillaged Erebor and Laketown in search of a new treasure to covet. I could have saved myself the trouble if I had just used my head. Or came back...”

 _New treasure?_ You thought. _What treasure is he talking about?_

“It’s all right, I’ve already forgiven you.”

“As I have forgiven you, little witch,” he responded warmly. You smiled again, ecstatic to finally have this misunderstanding behind you, though your face was tainted with tears when you pulled away. 

“Oh, Smaug, I missed you so much.” You reached a hand up and cupped his smooth cheek and he stilled. Something seemed to strike through him afterward; an expression growing in his golden eyes that made you feel uneasy. Safe, but uneasy. Slowly you retract your hand, perturbed by his sudden unpredictable behavior, but entranced all the same. 

 

* * *

 

Smaug was struck by an even stranger impulse now to touch wipe away the wetness on her face and taste it. To… press his lips upon her own and taste her there, too, as if he could absorb all her sadness until it was gone. As he looked at her standing before him, he began to see her as how he supposed a human male sees a female. How a dragon would see a mate. Feeling that burning thump in his chest, Smaug's body lit up like fire was roaring through his veins and he felt powerful and strong, yet vulnerable and fragile all at once. It was clear to him now that this was not the effect of a spell, but his attraction for the witch in full bloom. He had to have her; his treasure. Heart pounding, he reached his hand up to touch the side of Y/N's face all the while she stared shyly up at him. Using his thumb, he wiped away a stream of her tears and brought it to his mouth and his tongue escaped to swiftly lick the salted liquid from his digit all the while keeping his eyes on her face.

When her eyes darkened he had to taste her again. But not her tears. Even if it was just this once... a taste. He eyed her lips and looked to her for permission and barely even moved his face forward when the sound of wind chimes suddenly sounded from down the way, indicating a visitor had arrived. The unwelcome noise seemed to snap Y/N out of her daze and Smaug frowned at the source for disturbing the moment that never got a chance to break free and he dropped his hand and stepped back. 

One look at the witch and he saw that she was embarrassed, flushed red (though no longer from her crying), and avoiding his eyes. Strange. She’d never been so flustered before. Did she like being in such close proximity with him? Would she have liked to taste him as well, he wondered with interest. Would she allow him to try again?  

“Looks like we have a customer!” she said quickly wiping her face and sniffling the rest of her sadness away.

“So it would seem,” he replied flatly, keeping his amused eyes locked on Y/N and her shifty behavior, analyzing what it might mean. Together they walked back to the house and a young man was there waiting for them. Smaug didn’t particularly like the way his face lit up when Y/N drew near, but what bothered him even more was that the man was in his prime physical state and well-groomed to boot. He’d prefer an old cad to be standing there, but no… their first customer had to be a young male in perfect physical health. What in blazes could he possibly want that he wasn’t already getting? Certainly, he had a mate, did he not? Why would he come to see a witch? Smaug made sure to stay close, wishing he had wings to expand to make him appear even larger. 

“Madam Y/N, it’s been a long time!” 

“It sure has!” she replied cordially, all traces of her crying gone. “Haven’t seen you since you were just a little tyke up to my knees.”

"You haven't changed at all... you look just the same as I remembered, and twice as pretty," he replied with an all-too charming smile. 

And they knew each other? Oh, he did not like that at all. An awful twist in his gut had Smaug doing his damnedest to suppress his glare, but he felt a sort of masculine sense of pride at being much taller than him as if that gave him the advantage. The young fellow tore his eyes away from Smaug’s witch long enough to flick in his direction and he recoiled a bit. Smaug's expression did not falter. 

“U-uh, hello, sir,” he stammered. Smaug lifted his eyebrows in greeting and uttered a silky hello in response. 

“This is my assistant,” Y/N gestured awkwardly before clearing her throat. “What can we do for you, Blain?”

“I need a potion for my father. He’s not been well and his health has steadily been declining due to his back. Is there anything you can do?” he ventured hopefully. 

As the two delved further into conversation with Y/N asking him questions to best ascertain what she could concoct for the issue, Smaug remained nestled into her side staring the man down, daring him to look over or step out of line. He wasn’t paying much attention to the words being exchanged. But he did pay close attention to the male's behavior and facial expressions. By the Void, Blain was gandering at her! And everything became amplified when Blain pitched forward to hug her after the conversation had concluded. 

His lips curled up into a snarl as Smaug reached over to extract the man off of his witch by his arm when he was violently expelled backwards, startling both of them apart when he slammed into some potted plants on the porch as the result of his actions. 

Smaug grimaced as he sat up, rubbing his head to clear the pain burning there. Y/N’s eyes widened in shock before turning her attention back to Blain to say, “I’ll--we’ll just be a moment. I'll take a look in the back to see if I have everything I need to brew that potion for you.”

Blain looked on unsure, even taking a step back when Smaug got to his feet and stalked over, and he did not like how Blain tried to position himself in front of Y/N as if Smaug meant her harm. How dare he! Smaug would protect _his_ treasure, thank you very much!

"He's not used to strangers; not much of a people person, really. It's okay," Y/N assured the boy, indicating for him to stay put. "Will you wait out here?"

“Of course. I'll be right out here, let me know if you need my help.” Smaug didn't appreciate the stare down, but had to respect the balls on the little fellow. 

She paused in the doorway as she waited for Smaug and though he was the one who was chucked down by that invisible force, Smaug felt nothing but the urge to protect what was his. Y/N was _his_ treasure. No one else was allowed to have her. His golden eyes followed Blain until he lost sight of him after entering the house and closed the door behind them. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Y/N hissed quietly, yanking him along to stand in front of her. 

“Maybe I’m merely testing to see if the spell you put on me is still withstanding,” he snipped, even though that was a lie. Her face seemed to fall at that and, like a fool who cared what she thought of him, he quickly added, “No, that wasn’t it. I just was trying to protect you.”

Now she looked confused. “Protect me? From what, an innocent hug?” Y/N shook her head and breezed past him to the area she kept her herbs and ingredients. 

“I saw no innocence that gesture.”

Y/N sifted through the shelves, bypassing some of the dried plants and snagging others as she spoke to him. “It’s one of the ways humans greet each other, in case you didn’t know.”

“Then why did he not greet you with a tender embrace when you said your hellos?”

She made an annoyed sound at that and Smaug watched as her actions became more snippy. “It was a thank you! That--” she indicated with a jerk of her head over her shoulder “--was just a hug. What _we_ did was just a hug.”

Going by the way she kept avoiding him and how red her face became, Smaug held his doubts about that. Just a hug? Hmph… just a hug, his tail! Smaug was special -- she said so herself. It was time to remind his witch of that.

 

* * *

 

Just a hug, your ass.

If your ears could burn any hotter, steam would be blasting out of them and blow your cover. Knowing that the spell you had on Smaug was still withstanding had confirmed your suspicions that he no longer meant you harm and actually wanted to touch you in the ways that he had. Valar above, it even seemed like he was going to kiss you back there before you were interrupted. 

You touched your lips, wondering what it would have been like, actually a bit disappointed that-- no, stop. You couldn’t afford to entertain the thought of your first kiss being with Smaug of all people, and not with said person standing right here and certainly not when you had a customer waiting on you! 

You closed your eyes. Poor Blain! He must have been so shocked and confused when Smaug’s spell activated. Why would Smaug behave so violently towards him when he did nothing threatening towards either of you?  

You opened your mouth to demand just what Smaug’s problem was when you felt him take the herbs you had clutched in your hand and set them aside. Then he barricaded your body against the wall with his hands on either side of your head. His gaze was smoldering and he looked majestically beautiful and determined. You suddenly realized that he intended to pick right back up where you left off before the wind chimes sounded. 

“Smaug...” you pleaded in a whisper both helpless and wanting as your heart picked up speed. “What’re you doing?”

He dipped his head lower, as if he was only following his body’s impulse. “Just a taste. I only want… a taste.” 

And with that, Smaug leaned down the rest of the way to steal a kiss from your lips while you did nothing to stop him -- again.  

Your blood raced. Your heart soared. Little flickers of electricity exploded through your body causing your stance to falter, but Smaug had swept you into his arms with your own shooting out to hold onto him. He hummed sweetly against you, a sound that was quite erotic to your ears.

This should have felt wrong. It was _Smaug!_ He’s a dragon! _Was,_ your brain countered unhelpfully. And instead of this situation feeling wrong or strange, your pulse quickened faster and your traitorous body had showed all telltale signs that everything was a-ok and it was totally onboard to go along with whatever was happening here. 

Smaug’s golden eyes remained hooded but open during the kiss, watching you and your reaction. You clenched your eyes shut just so you wouldn’t have to look at him, but you allowed yourself to kiss him back, relishing in the pleasant shiver rolling through your body. Almost too soon you felt his lips pull away with his grip on your shoulders following suit. You slumped against the wall, curiously disappointed that it was only a long, lingering peck. 

You opened your eyes to find Smaug standing close and frowning while touching his lips with his finger tips. “What an unusual sensation…” he said breathlessly to himself. He shot his eyes to yours and your face heated at the sight of his blown pupils.

“Why did you do that?” you asked more harshly than you intended. Oh, now your knee-jerk deflecting reaction was showing up. Bravo. 

He cocked his head to the side and licked his lips, and damn you for your chest tightening up in response to seeing it. “I wanted a taste,” he repeated simply. “You didn’t exactly try and stop me.”

“So that made it okay?” you retorted in a slightly raised voice, trying to gain back some ground. 

“Are you upset with me for kissing you or are you upset because you enjoyed it?” 

“Yes!” you answered back much too quickly in your frustration.

He hummed thoughtfully as a smirk tugged his lips. “Interesting. Yes to which?”

“Everything all right in there?” Blain’s voice sounded from the porch. He still didn’t want to risk coming inside due to Smaug making him feel as unwelcome as he did. Smaug’s playful expression instantly darkened as he growled and suddenly you knew what all this was about. 

“You have got to be joking…” you said in disbelief. 

“Madam Y/N?”

“Everything is fine, we'll be back soon!” You called, not taking your eyes off Smaug as your lowered voice asked, “You’re jealous? Of Blain?”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

“And how does he look at me, Smaug?”

“The same way that I have been looking at you while admiring your beauty.” You jumped, shocked by his words. Smaug brought up a hand to twirl your hair. “Surely you noticed? Even since the beginning I could not take my eyes off of you.”

He thought you were beautiful? Well, that would explain him always lingering around and never getting you out of his sight. Dragons tended to bask in whatever they found precious and pretty to them, and you were actually a bit flattered that he seemed to think your beauty was something worth looking at. 

"I didn't know," you responded lamely. 

"Now you do. And now you understand the reason for my actions, yes?"

You quirked an eyebrow up at him, still not sure how all of this fit together. "You kissed me because you think I'm pretty?"

He sighed.

"I kissed you because I'm more special than--"

"Madam Y/N, if you need me to come in there, just say the word," Blain cut in. Based on the manner in which he said the words, he insinuated that he was prepared to defend you, should you need saving.

You flinched when Smaug growled and pressed his body possessively against yours. "Our embrace was not 'just a hug'. Our kiss was not 'just a kiss'; you are special to me, too, my Y/N, and I will show you exactly why."

Before you could stop him, he had pulled your face towards his own to land another searing kiss upon your mouth. You caved under his lips, trying to both push off of you and hold onto him for dear life at the same time. But he held firm, thrusting his tongue in your mouth and quickly getting you to yield to him as you moaned in response to your insides turning to jelly. You weren’t used to this. It was all happening so fast! You grumbled weakly in protest and tried again to shove him away before you fainted or something, and though he relinquished your mouth, your body was still trapped against his own leaving both of you panting.

“What in Valar’s name is the matter with you!?” 

“You are mine,” he growled possessively, enunciating each word low in his throat. A flood of heat broke through you and you were momentarily speechless. “You were always mine.”

“Smaug--”

“--as I was always yours and yours alone.” 

“I need to remove the spell on you,” you decided abruptly. It was backfiring. He no longer meant you harm, sure, but now he meant for another means entirely and you couldn’t handle it. You couldn’t handle his feelings for you gushing out like a maelstrom and you couldn’t handle your own feelings for him that you couldn't quite place yet. He looked human from the spell you cast on him, but deep down Smaug was still a beast. A dragon. Dragons sought and hoarded treasure and once they found something they wanted, there was little anyone could do to tear them away from it. 

And if a dragon had laid claim to a person they treasured, they were fiercely protective of them. Somehow… Smaug had developed the need for a mate to replace the treasure he no longer possessed and decided that you were it. But you had never known romantic love before. You weren’t sure if you could accept his feelings due to your ignorance and novice experience. And the fact that Smaug was not truly a human had certainly complicated matters enough.

“No.” 

You blinked up at him in surprise, “No?”

He didn’t reiterate after that but a silence stretched between you. Smaug still didn’t move or release you from his hold but at least he didn’t try to kiss you again. You were baffled. All Smaug could talk about was returning to his dragon form; he had nothing but complaints on all the limitations his human body was subject to, but now all of a sudden he didn’t want to change back?

You narrowed your eyes at him but not unkindly. “No?” you repeated. 

His eyes softened then, a nervous look crossing over. He still didn’t answer, so you asked, “Why not?”

“I would no longer be able to touch you like this.” He brought his hand to your face and cupped your cheek, moving his thumb back and forth along your bottom lip. “Or feel your lips against mine; pull your body close, bury my face in your hair, or…” 

He removed his hand from your cheek and looked down to where your hands were and took one. “Become your lover,” he finished tenderly. 

“I’m your caretaker…” Even you weren’t convinced with how pitiful you sounded.

“I care not.”

“I’m a witch!” you protested weakly. 

His stare penetrated through yours and you crumbled in its effect, “I care not.” 

“But--”

He covered your mouth with his palm to stop you from talking and didn’t remove it as he spoke. “There is no greater treasure for me than you. You were my first treasure I coveted... the one thing I wanted more than even Erebor’s riches. Now that I have you, I’m never letting go. I understand I have done horrible things to others as a dragon. Unforgivable things. There’s nowhere for me to go if I change back now. I... I've become infatuated with you and should like to live out the remainder of my days as a human -- with you. Please, don’t banish me now. I will not let you be lonely again; I take great care with what is mine.” He emphasized his point with a toe-curling purr as he leaned in to steal another kiss from your surprised lips.

Noting your silence, he added seriously, “Can I stay with you, my Y/N? Be it your lover, your companion, or… blazes, even as your assistant! I shall obey what you decide and will be happy as long as it means we will never be parted again.”

Stunned didn’t come close to describing how you felt. Your brain seemed to short circuit at this onslaught of new experiences and information. Bereft of words, all you could do was gape at him. Smaug was willing to forego being a dragon and stay here with you as your lover or friend, whichever you wished. It was obvious which of those options he would have preferred being, but you definitely needed time to think on it, and maybe a proper night's sleep would help set you straight and sort through your options. But deep down, you knew you wanted him with you in some shape or form. It was still too early to decide what sort of future you wanted to have, even though you admitted to yourself that you found him attractive and quite liked his way of showing affection.

You nodded with a faint blush, “You can stay."

Smaug grinned widely and he looked like a giddy little boy, which in turn made your heart stutter. He leaned in to kiss you again and you turned your face away.

“You resist me. Why?” he demanded.

“B-because what you’re feeling is one-sided,” you partly lied. 

Smaug looked down between you and glanced up at you with a flicker of his golden eyes. “Then why do you cling to me?” he questioned deeply. 

Crap, your hand was wrapped around his waist. And he wouldn’t let you remove it. 

“Why does your body melt into mine when I kiss you if my feelings are so one-sided? You feel a precious heat between us but you deny it. But that’s fine, you must need time to think on my proposition -- I do admit that I have gotten carried away with expressing my emotions for you. I will, however, make sure others know that this particular treasure of mine is claimed.”

Oh, that look was downright mischievous. “Now just a minute--”

“Shhh, my precious treasure.”

Lifting your face in his hands, with you anticipating another kiss from him, you decided to just close your eyes and get it over with but Smaug instead turned your head to the side and licked up the column of your neck. You shivered, a pleasured sound escaping your lips in a gasp. 

“Oh, you like this?” 

No point in denying it now since he already heard you and sounded far too smug for your liking. “Yes.”

Emboldened by your honesty, Smaug did it again and your hips met his of their own accord as you let out a feminine mewl. You felt a growing hardness form between you and Smaug groaned at the contact before he suddenly bit down and suckled on your neck just under your ear. You gasped and squeaked at the tugging and pulling on your sensitive skin between his teeth and lips and based on the amount of pressure he was using, you knew exactly what this was. He was marking you. And by the feel of the tiny pulse in the bite mark he left, the mark was a large, purple, ugly hickey.

He leaned back admiring his handy work with a proud smile and patted your cheek. You swatted at him and pouted, covering the mark with your hand as if that would do anything to even remotely help hide it. 

“Well, go on. Your customer is waiting,” he swept his arm to the side to allow you to pass, smiling like a boy who had just been given dessert before supper and enjoyed every bit of it. 

You stared at him agog, your brain finally catching up with all the new territory you both crossed today. There were so many ups and downs that occurred over the expanse of an hour and you had went from thinking that Smaug merely tolerated you, to finally forgiving you for releasing him, becoming attracted to you, comforting you with that intimate hug, kissing you, no longer wanting to leave, and now… your body was all hot and bothered and thrown off kilter because of it.

When you had brought Smaug back here, you had no idea what would happen to your relationship with one another. You had hoped it would rekindle, that you would reconnect with one another, but how could you have known it would lead to here? Taking Smaug’s proposition into serious consideration, staying together was definitely what you wanted. But now you had to think about what Smaug could be to you. Did you see him as your life partner or was he a friend? Could you look past his previous specie and grow to love him more deeply and intimately beyond what you’ve done as his caregiver?

You looked to him and listened to what your heart was saying to do. Well, you had all the time in the world to decide, didn't you?

“Oh, don’t look so smug. You and I need to have a serious talk about… whatever this is, and I need to teach you about proper manners for when we have customers in the future,” you pouted. 

Smaug only smiled, “As you wish. I promise not to fight with the boy.”

“And if he hugs me again?” you questioned with a smirk. 

His face fell and he crossed his arms, glaring down at the floor biting out, “I shall restrain myself… but there would be nothing I could do to protect you even if he did mean you harm. This makes me nervous. If something were to happen to you, I would never forgive myself.”

Ah, yes, there was that. Taking a deep breath and making a rather important decision that you knew needed to be made, you stalked up to your Smaug and lifted yourself on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. And through that kiss, you removed the restraint you had placed on him along with turning him immortal by extracting his dragon essence and altering it with your own magical being so that they were one in the same -- tying yourself to each other. He stiffened, feeling the effects of what you were doing, and letting out a shuddering breath. 

When you pulled away you smiled at him. “I think that should do it, no more spell for you -- we’ll talk about what the future holds for us later, but in the meantime you better behave yourself or I’ll turn you into a chair,” you teased, grabbing the rest of your herbs and making your way back to the door, not bothering to hide his mark with a glamour or spell since the exchange you did had left you fatigued, but satisfied. His voice stopped you.

“Does this mean--are we together?” 

Looking over your shoulder and gesturing for him to take your hand, you intertwined your fingers together. Squeezing his hand you said, “We always were, my special Smaug.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left it open-ended and not overtly resulting in romance because at the end I wasn’t sure if Foxx would have wanted it like that or not and it seemed fitting to leave everything open to possibility. :X


	17. The Road Less Traveled (ThorinxReader) Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you wait for me  
> Then I'll come for you  
> Although I've traveled far  
> I always hold a place for you in my heart  
> — Tracy Chapman, "The Promise"
> 
> Nothing I could write as this chapter's summary could possibly match this lovely Tracy Chapman song. To get a good idea of the theme of this chapter (and to listen to a beautiful piece of music) I'd encourage you all to have a listen! 
> 
> Link to song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XcfswBZpSBU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some NSFW. And... the chapter the REALLY long. Possibly the longest I've written for this series. Sorry? :x
> 
> (Part 4 of 5) Channeled some inspiration from my Dwalin chapter for this one. You know… I had half a mind to make this angsty, but in the end I didn’t have the heart to do it, so it’ll be a well-earned sweet reunion. YOU’RE WELCOME. 
> 
> One of the reasons why this took so blasted long was because I really tried to wrap up this story in this chapter, but I wasn’t able to effectively conclude it without rushing through or making it so ridiculously long. A lot of the story kept getting cut out then put back in for relevance. Bah. This was yet another chapter that wrote itself despite what I had planned. SO. Stay tuned for part 5 -- which will actually have that smut some of you have been waiting for (and hopefully the ending.) :3

_Roughly 1 year and 10 months later_

A heavy knocking startled you out of a nap you didn’t realize you’d fallen into. As you groggily sat up to rub the sleep out of your eyes, you weren’t sure if you even heard a knock at all or if you only imagined it until a second, more insistent knocking followed. 

“Just a minute!” you called, followed closely with a deep yawn. Gods, you were exhausted. The week had proved to be a busy one. In the following months since your departure with Thorin, you had retired your mercenary job and took up residence in one of the towns you told him you’d be circling in, taking on odd jobs anywhere you could. It didn’t pay nearly as much and some of your old clients had still found ways to seek you out, but you refused. You didn’t exactly miss it, either, and it felt nice to finally take it a little easier in life. 

Thorin was a constant vision in your mind’s eye. Everything from his cobalt blue eyes, to the special way he smiled at you, when you saw him naked for the first time, down to the wonderful experience he shared with you. Your thoughts of him would have distracted you while on the job and you’d be damned if you got yourself killed before you heard back from him — _if_ you heard back from him. That’s why you opted to retire. Your hope of hearing anything from him dwindled as the months ticked by without word but your faith remained reinforced by the bead you always kept on your person. It held all of the memories you shared with him and was the only thing that helped make bearing the brunt of this agonizing waiting period easier to go through. 

But you still had your worries and fears all revolving around the worst possible scenarios. It was hard not to the longer you were made to wait. What if Thorin didn’t make it? What if he changed his mind? What if he found someone else… It took a lot of arguing with yourself to banish those negative thoughts from your mind, but these stupid little ‘what-ifs’ were ever present; looming in the darkness planting those seeds of doubt as each day passed by. 

Potential suitors had approached you in Thorin’s absence, but none of them tested your loyalty to your dwarf. Before they could even offer you tokens of their affections, you proudly claimed that you were happily taken and very much in love. It wasn’t a lie. You still were. 

Opening the door just a crack, you were greeted with a rather tall, heavily muscled dwarf who looked every bit as intimidating as a ruffian headhunter. Your breath hitched and you silently cursed for not keeping a weapon nearby just in case. In spite of potential danger standing in front of you (and you didn’t dare assume) you haven’t seen another dwarf cross your path since—

“Are you Y/N?”

“Who’s asking?” you returned warily. 

“I am. Now, are you Y/N or no?”

Grasping onto the hope that he knew Thorin or had any news of him, you decided to throw caution to the wind. If he started any trouble, you know you’d be able to handle yourself. 

“Yes, that’s me.”

The scowl immediately melted away and he even smiled a little.  

“Dwalin, at yer service,” he said gruffly while he bowed, maintaining eye contact with you. He readjusted something in his arms from under his cloak. “Can I come in?”

Your eyes darted around him instinctively, just on the chance that there were other people lurking around, but he came alone so you stepped aside.

Dwalin strode on in like he owned the place and looked around for somewhere to hang the cloak he shirked off and decided upon the dingy tall lamp near the bureau. A part of you wondered if he was a client that was referred to you back in your mercenary days. It wasn’t uncommon for those who required your services; they knew where to find you based on your past clientele, and you were always careful with whom you gave that information to. You’ve worked for some shady characters and ensured your locations remained secret by not divulging details to them but every once in a while they extended the details to someone else. 

But another part of you pondered if perhaps this dwarrow did know Thorin. He didn’t look related to him in the slightest, so you weren’t sure. But maybe he was a friend? Thorin couldn’t very much mention anything of the sort during your time together, which would have been exceedingly helpful in situations like this. 

After shutting the door behind you and before you could ask him what he needed and why he was here, the dwarf thrusted over a bulky parcel along with a letter. You didn’t recognize the penmanship that carried your name in excellent swishes and flicks, but you recognized a royal seal when you saw one. You didn’t know whose it was and at first you thought that it was a job request from a royal inquirer before fearing the worst: that maybe you were in trouble by someone of royal descent — big trouble. The kind that required a royal summons as well as an intimidating delivery person to bring you by force if you refused the summons. 

“What is this?” You fought the shaking you felt in your bones from making itself known in your voice. 

Dwalin crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes on you, “Read it and you’ll find out.”

Okay, not exactly the most reassuring answer. Your heart thudded in your chest as you retreated to the nearest chair and sat down, not trusting your legs to keep you upright. You tore the letter open first and put the bulky parcel in your lap to open last. Dwalin’s stoic expression divulged nothing about the content of the letter, but he leaned on the wall with his arms still crossed, surveying you while you read it under his hardened stare. 

_My beloved,_

Your relief rushed out of you in a deep whoosh of a sigh. To your embarrassment, you couldn’t even get past that part without looking up at Dwalin wide-eyed with surprise and hope. The jerk had the gull to snicker and you wanted to both punch the guy and cry your eyes out at the same time. You settled for a glare because he was still laughing. With a sour expression meant solely for Dwalin’s lack of proper etiquette for how special this letter was to you, your eyes returned to the page. 

_In the growing days and nights since our departure, I could not help but wonder whether or not meeting and falling in love with you was nothing but a beautiful dream. The feel of your touch has long since left my skin, and I can no longer feel the tickle of your hair, nor the press of your lips on mine, or the rush you left in my blood when I felt your bond surge through my veins back at the inn. The lock of hair you generously bestowed upon me is the only proof I have that what we shared was real — I value it above all the treasure in Middle Earth and forever will be honored for such a gift._

Instinctively, your hand found Thorin’s bead and you rolled it around between your fingers for comfort. Smiling down at his loving words, you continued on. 

_I have written this letter to inform you that my quest has finally met its end. At last, I am free to share with you not only the tales of the hardships I’ve endured with my kin as I had promised you, but I am now free to share my life, my family, my home, and — if it pleases you as much as I know it will please me — myself. Such avid confessions are unbecoming and taboo to write down, I know, but I feel I must say them anyway no matter how scandalous: I have not forgotten your bare form and how perfect it felt beneath my eager hands. Or the beautiful sounds you made when I pleasured you with my mouth, or how tantalizing your taste was to my senses. That night we shared has plagued me nightly to the point of bursting even now. Would you think less of me to divulge that while recollecting my thoughts on our passionate night that I had taken myself in hand? As enticing as it felt, it paled in comparison to the bliss only you have granted me. I am anxious to feel your bond coursing through me again, but next time I vow to take you properly._

Warmth flared in your cheeks before traveling down to your core as you took in his description, recalling his touch and kiss that you had only a mere taste of, it seemed. You often thought about your night at the inn and his magnificent body. It felt like a lifetime ago now, but knowing that Thorin still remembered it so vividly had you biting back a secret smile for him. It was suddenly getting to be a little too warm in here. You snuck a glance at Dwalin who continued to watch you read; thankful that he had no idea what sentiments, or effects, it carried. 

_But I digress… there is so much I want to explain and so much I would prefer to say to you in person than over a letter. Your heart was such a heavy gift to carry with me. And the agonizing distance had only made it heavier still, but I did so with strength and purpose. I could not say to you at the time, but I fear you might have already thought it. There was a possibility that my quest would result in failure; that I would not have made it through. But knowing that my people were counting on me to lead them to victory was both an honor and privilege, and knowing that I had my One waiting for my return gave me the strength and courage I needed to persevere._

_I miss you terribly! Just to see you again and hold you would lift any hardship I have endured this past year._

“Me, too…” you whispered to the paper that had once been held in Thorin’s own hands. Your fingers traced the black ink over the heartfelt words you just read and you took a break to collect yourself before the tears that pricked your eyes could descend down your face. You didn’t want to cry in front of a stranger; who was still staring at you. There was an additional page in the back of this one so you took a breath and braced yourself for the other things Thorin wanted to say. 

_But perhaps fate will look kindly on us in this letter’s swift arrival and come to your hands with haste. Dwalin is my most trusted friend and battle brother. I know well your own aptitude with weapons, however, I would not rest comfortably having my beloved travel alone, so I have sent him to accompany you not only to deliver my summons, but to be your escort, should you choose to leave with him._

You frowned at that. Wondering why in the world he would think you wouldn’t want to see him after all this time. Had he no faith in you or your love for him? Seeing as there was a little bit left to read, your heart quickened, anticipating unfavorable news. 

_My Y/N, I have kept so many secrets from you in the past. Far too many. Do you remember what we discussed back at the inn when we held each other after our throes of passion and experiencing that special bond? I marvel that you still chose me for your husband on a leap of faith alone when I gave you an opportunity to put a temporary end in our unorthodox courtship. At the moment, I would have said it was done by a smitten dwarrow who was trying to do right by his lover and was much too stubborn to let the love of his lifetime go. But looking back after so many seasons passed, I realize that was nothing but selfishness. Not only had I asked for a secretive, improper courtship, but I proposed marriage without you even knowing my last name and expected you to wait Mahal knows how long until my quest was finished without truly knowing whether or not I would succeed. I am more than embarrassed to have assumed that you would ever wait for my return on hopes, well wishes, bonds and kisses alone when I’ve kept such important secrets from you. But I would also be lying if I admitted that I haven’t continued my love-smitten assumptions that you just might be waiting for me... that our love was proud and true enough to make it so. But still there is an important detail I must share, which may alter your decision to return to me._

You took another quick breath at that to gather your thoughts. Of course you waited for him! You said you would! Infuriating oaf… didn’t he know how ecstatic you’d be to finally hear back from him? Gods, what could that important detail be, you wondered. 

_Please know that my heart was always truthful and pure and always will be — if ever you doubted, know for certain that you are a constant presence in my heart every second we are parted. Walking away from you to my Master Burglar’s house in the Shire was one of the hardest things I ever did. I may have reclaimed my homeland in the name of my forefathers and have been crowned king of all dwarves. Although I have rejoined with my people and family, it will never be home to me without you by my side, as my queen, should you still wish to have me. I pray that you do and I have faith in your love for me, but I will understand if you cannot now that you know what marrying me would entail._

_I have asked so much of you already, but I shall ask one last request: Come home to me, to Erebor._

_I will be waiting._

_Deeply yours with all of my love,_

_Thorin Oakenshield_

_King Under the Mountain_

_P.S. I have not forgotten my promise — I will tell you everything and will spend the rest of my life doing so, if it means being with you again. I hope you enjoy your betrothal gift as much as I have enjoyed crafting it._

Immediately after you finished, you reread both pages before leaning back in the chair, taking a deep breath and blinking quickly once you had effectively marinated on all of his words. Your head was awash with varying emotions and all you could do is sit there and stew in it. 

“Y’all right there, lassie?” Dwalin asked once he realized you were finished reading and were just staring off into space.  

“Yeah,” you nodded numbly. “Just dealing with a lot of emotions right now.” 

Uh-huh. More like trying not to have an emotional break down. Your Thorin was alive! He made it, and he still loved you and missed you. You were hurt that he seemed to worry that you would stop caring for him, but reading between the lines along with his divulged title, you understood why. Dwarves felt love differently than others did, and you both had partially bonded with each other, which wasn’t exactly a biologically common occurrence for humans. You couldn’t fault him for that. And when you finally saw him again, you’d smack some sense into him to never doubt you ever again. And then there was this monumental piece of information: he was a king. And not just “a” king, but “the” king of _all_ dwarves. 

Taking another moment to yourself for strength, you carefully opened up the bulky parchment and gently unwrapped the contents of smooth, navy blue satin and padding to see what accompanied his letter and immediately teared up despite telling yourself not to. Expertly crafted in the finest material was a metal rose the color of wine, forged out of beautiful sturdy steel, and embedded with many starlight-colored gems that twinkled like rainbows as the dew drops on the petals. Those stones were unlike anything you had seen before and no doubt were timeless treasures.

But what hit you the most was that this rose was just like from his story at the inn… only now it wasn’t fictional. He actually made you an eternal rose to symbolize his love for you in such a special, personal way. Well, that did it.  

Dwalin flinched as the sound of the first sob broke through and awkwardly cleared his throat and offered you a handkerchief with an extended arm when you started sobbing as if he had no idea how to console a weeping woman and didn’t want to catch your “cooties”. You gratefully accepted what he gingerly held out between his two fingers, not caring that the sounds you were making weren’t ladylike in the slightest. 

When you finally calmed down, you excused yourself to the bathroom to splash cool water on your face and then returned to meet Dwalin much more composed. Both of you stood in silence, not knowing what to say. Dwalin’s eyes softened when he saw you fiddling with Thorin’s bead as you gazed down at the flower Thorin crafted. 

“So, yer his lady fair,” he noted with a hum, giving you a thorough yet approving once over as he took in your post teary-eyed state. “He spoke of ya highly and often to me. I admit to bein’ mighty curious to finally meet ya in person.”

You blushed at the thought of Thorin thinking so highly of you enough to gloat to his close friend about it. Biting your lip shyly, you wondered what it was he said. You wished you had someone to confide in with your harbored emotions, but you respected his wishes enough to keep him a secret from everyone you met. You hugged yourself and stared down at the floor wishing he was here. Wishing it was his arms wrapped around you in comfort. 

Dwalin added, “He didn’t tell anyone else in the company about ya, though. Not until after. An’ not because he didn’t want to, but just in case…” He turned notably unsettled. “Just in case he, ah, didn’t make it — didn’t want the wrong folk findin’ ya, either, and the less who knew, the better. Regardless of the outcome, he wanted me to be the one to find ya and tell ya the news, whichever it was.”

It explained why Thorin didn’t come for you himself; he had other obligations to fulfill. You wondered how he was faring. If he was working too hard, or remembering to eat and take breaks.  

“‘King Under the Mountain’…” You shook your head in disbelief, recalling his signature in the letter and the royal seal on the envelope. “He really was royalty.” To think you got away with treating him and talking to him the way you did all those months — and in front of his kin at the Iron Hills! — it was a wonder he put up with you at all, let alone fall in love with you. 

“Aye!” Dwalin confirmed proudly with a hitch of his belt. “The one true King of Erebor.”

“And he wants me to be his queen even after all this time...” your voice cracked and you quickly managed a follow up cough in hopes to mask it, blinking away more tears. You didn’t want to burst into a fit again so soon in front of a complete stranger, trusted friend of Thorin’s or not. 

“I found it odd at first, him takin’ by a human maid. We’re a very particular kind of folk, but Thorin has chosen you for his own just the same. A dwarrow who found his One wouldn’t be able to take anyone else as their mate, whether you accept him or no. And as a king, he would take no other consort.”

“There’s something I’m a little confused about,” you started with a frown. “In his letter, he implied that he wouldn’t fault me if I didn’t go with you. Given how taken he is and how deeply dwarves bond with their soulmates, why do you think he would say such a thing when he knows I was waiting for him?” 

“S’not my place to say so, my lady,” Dwalin admitted gently. “I cannae speak for him. But if I were to guess, it’s because he had put a great deal upon yer shoulders without you knowing the full truth. The most important thing he kept from ye was that he is a king. You would be his queen and would be ruling an entire kingdom of people not yer own by his side. It is not somethin’ to take lightly and he likely wanted to offer you a choice now that he was free to tell ye who he is. He had expressed often to me how selfish he was fer makin’ ye promise to marry him after ye found out about him and he lamented how unfair that was to ya. But I will say this: you hold Thorin’s heart in the palm of your hands as well as that of our mountain’s. He had the sacred jewel of Erebor destroyed and crafted into making that rose.”

That certainly was a lot to take in — geez, no pressure or anything. You loved Thorin with all of your being but if you continued your romance with him, it would result in you being a queen — a human queen ruling over all dwarves in a dwarven kingdom. It was a huge decision to make, and obviously should not be decided upon without time to sleep on it, but your heart had already decided for you long before Thorin’s letter even arrived. You've dreamed of him, missed him, and waited for him to finally call for you just as he did now. In all intents and purposes, finding out who Thorin really was should have given your life-altering decision major pause, but the heart appeared to be much more complicated than that. 

“He waits for ya, lass, even now. I know ya might need some time to think, but will you go to him knowing who he really is?” Dwalin asked, surveying your expression.

You clutched the metal rose to your chest and smiled brightly. “Well, I’ve got nothing better to do, so I guess I can pay him a visit,” you jested. “I do kind of miss the infuriating lug and I need to smack some sense into him for thinking even for a moment that I would refuse. When can we leave?”

Dwalin’s eyebrows popped up in surprised but then he burst into a loud, bark of a laugh and nodded in approval, very pleased by your answer. “That I have to see! Very good. I’ll help ya pack and we’ll head out as soon as possible. Thorin will have my hide if we don’t make it back before winter. Have yeh got a horse?”

 

* * *

 

Erebor. 

Well, it was big. Okay, “big” was an understatement. Erebor was _humongous_ . You’ve never seen anything like it. This place was the mountain of mountains hosting an entire kingdom inside of it! Your travels as a mercenary has sent you traipsing all throughout the land, but you’ve never ventured this way before. At least not this far out. You’ve seen the mountain at a distance a few times, but never did you ever think you’d be moving in — or become engaged to the _king_ , for god sakes! 

You knew the moment you stepped out of your door with Dwalin you had (more or less) formally and officially accepted Thorin’s proposal to become his wife but the sheer magnitude of your responsibilities was intensified as you approached this once lonely mountain. You weren’t going to lie to yourself: you were scared. This was a huge move and you were very ill-prepared for dwarven customs, especially royal dwarven customs, but Dwalin had assured you that Thorin would be with you every step of the way, as would he. Dwalin also gave you fair warning that dwarves tended to be highly suspicious of outsiders, but not to be discouraged if there was any ostracizing involved in the beginning of your stay. If all else failed, they would deal with the king if anyone so much as looked at you funny. Reassuring words to be sure, but they did little to pacify your worry. 

Once the mountain was in view, ravens were seen flying overhead on the lookout for your presence a few miles out before taking off back to the mountain to announce your arrival and your heart leapt up to your throat with nerves. Was Thorin still the same person you fell in love with? What has he gone through over the last two years since you saw each other? Would things be starkly different now that he was king, and would you even be accepted among his people? And as their queen? You had plenty of time to think on that during the ride over but now that you were here, it seemed suddenly way more real. Dwalin noticed you growing more and more anxious and gave you an understanding look. 

“Excited?” he asked in a way that suggested he was trying to lift your mood. Your brittle composure wasn’t as easily deconstructed as you thought, it took a lot of strength to appear strong.  

But words having failed you, your head just bobbed along and Dwalin only smiled, returning his sight in front of you. 

“I know fer certain he is. Lovestruck lad was pining like mad fer ya!” Dwalin chuckled. 

As you approached closer, you noticed quite a few dwarves standing post to receive you at the front gates, but there was only one of them whom your eyes sought. And you were able to spot your future husband instantly among the group and you felt your heart call out to him as if he was a homing beacon. Two years came rushing at you all at once; all the longing, hope, and fear was eradicated the moment your eyes found him. He still looked the same even when dressed in his regal garb and wearing his crown. Your Thorin was posted at the center of the assembly flanked by two other dwarves who were dressed similarly to him, each with smaller crowns on their heads but no cloaks. Both leaned over to say something to him that made him smile. 

The moment you came into view and were close enough to dismount, Thorin’s face lit up and he broke free from the assembly at an eager stride. His long, navy blue fur-lined cloak billowed out behind him as he rushed majestically towards you. Everything in your vision zeroed in on him until he was all you saw and the world faded away. You couldn’t seem to move your feet at first, but then you felt the pull for him inside of you take charge and your pace began slowly building up until you, less majestically in your giddy dash, hurried to Thorin in your own haste. Given his high title and despite your relationship, you weren’t sure how to address or greet him in front of his subjects, but as soon as you met in the middle, Thorin swept you into his arms and held tight. You about sagged with relief as you clutched him back desperate for his touch after being without it for far too long. You really needed that hug after over two years of being apart not knowing if he was alive or dead, or… if he had changed his mind. But all of your doubts were immediately erased now having him back in your arms and your body hummed with life, lighting you up from the inside out. 

“I cannot believe you are finally here in my arms at last,” he whispered into your skin with a shudder. Your face nestled into his thick hair and you breathed him in, safe and familiar. “My Y/N, my jewel.”

You choked back your tears. You couldn’t believe you were here either. “I missed you.”

“I missed you,” he echoed affectionately, keeping you locked in his arms and angling his face to look at you. “There is so much I want to say… but not now. Later, when we are alone; I will give you a more appropriate greeting,” he winked.

That tone included a promise that you knew he fully intended to keep.

Thorin pulled away much too soon and held both of your hands in his, he gave a quick nod of greeting to Dwalin who stopped beside between you furrowing his brow in confusion as he looked downward, but you paid him no mind. Now that the initial blinding rush of happiness and excitement had dimmed ever slightly, your eyes roamed over the one you’ve been missing most to take in his features down to every freckle and wrinkle. You noticed a fading scar on Thorin’s forehead that definitely wasn’t there the last time you saw him. He had more worry lines around his eyes and his streaks of gray seemed to have a few new friends. 

Pointing down, Dwalin asked, “Thorin, why aren’t you usin’ yer—”

“I do not need it, as you saw.”

Before you could even ask what that was about, Thorin kissed away any other thoughts from your mind and had turned fully to Dwalin to clasp his hand around his friend’s neck, bringing him in for a forehead press. 

“Thank you for returning my beloved safely to me,” he said, holding the tender position with his most trusted companion. 

Dwalin grumbled something under his breath that made Thorin chuckle and the warrior clapped him on the shoulder twice before they broke apart. “She was an exceptional traveling companion, just as ye said. More stubborn than a dwarrowdam, too. By my beard, the mouth on her is worse than—”

“Hey!” you whined, punching him (hard) in the shoulder. “You don’t exactly wash your mouth with soap either, pal.”

Dwalin grimaced and rubbed the spot you hit him. “Worse than a sailor’s and och, a punch like a man’s,” he finished, undeterred. 

As you made sure to let Dwalin have it and protest your point, with Dwalin pressing your buttons in retaliation, Thorin laughed jovially at the friendly banter. In this one interaction, he knew exactly the type of travel you both had endured and he seemed really pleased that you two got along despite the bickering. 

At this point, the lingering dwarves slowly filed in for their turn to bid you welcome, eying you curiously but with inviting smiles as they talked amongst themselves. Thorin slung his arm around your waist and with a proud, booming voice addressed the small gathering, “It gives me great honor to introduce my betrothed to my closest friends and family. Everyone, this is Y/N Y/L/N, my lover, my One, and your future Queen Under the Mountain. I will make a formal introduction at next week’s council, but for now, please keep this information among yourselves, my friends.”

The group exchanged surprised and excited whispers.

“At your service, our queen,” they all replied unanimously with a sweeping bow that you were totally not expecting or used to. Flustered with this type of attention, you waved your hands through the air in hopes that they’d stop, but they saw it through to the end. Some chuckled endearingly at you once righted. 

The two dwarves dressed similarly to Thorin — one of them blonde and the other brunette — approached you together. They each took a hand to brush a kiss against your knuckles and your face turned scarlet from the attention. 

“Very nice to meet you, Lady Y/N. Welcome to Erebor,” the blonde smiled, charming you with his deep dimples and kind face. 

“Aye, a pleasure indeed! Uncle, you mentioned so many things about her, but nothing of her beauty. She is stunning.” The brunette added, causing you to become visibly flummoxed. 

“My sister-sons, Fili and Kili,” Thorin gestured to each one as he introduced their names to you and then addressed them rather sternly as he drew you closer against him. “I advise you to take care in commenting on my intended’s charms moving forward. Do not scare her off before she even steps foot inside the mountain.”  

Kili flushed, “I didn’t mean anything by it. She’s just pretty, is all. It’s called a compliment.”

“Or a flirt in disguise,” Thorin retorted dryly. 

Fili wrinkled his nose as he smirked, “No, she’s practically our Auntie now. Come, Thorin, we know she’s off limits.”

“That’s right! Auntie Y/N,” Kili said, trying out your new title. “We’ll treat her just as we would treat you.”

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes briefly. “Valar forbid…”

You laughed at the banter, having no idea what this ‘treatment’ entailed, “Thanks, I guess? Not sure if I should be flattered or worried,” you finished in Thorin’s ear who swiftly reassured you that this often was the result of their frequent familial teasing. 

“Oi! Don’t let her looks fool ya! She’s got bite in ‘er and can probably best one of ya in battle from what I witnessed,” Dwalin jumped in after a rather violent-sounding headbutt to a shorter, older dwarf with a long white beard. 

“Battle? What battle?” Thorin questioned, looking between you and Dwalin with narrowed eyes. 

“Dwalin!” you hissed. “There wasn’t any—Thorin, wait! There were… no… battles…” But it was too late.

That set your dwarrow off. He immediately engaged in a rather heated conversation with Dwalin on how many fights were encountered, with whom, if you were injured during them and so forth to which poor Dwalin couldn’t even get a word in edgewise. You didn’t encounter any issues, you just sparred with each other on the road to stay sharp but it warmed your heart to see Thorin so concerned about you. Gods, he was really letting Dwalin have it and was now speaking to him in an entirely new language. 

The older dwarf skirted out of the way of the two of them quarreling and smiled up at you. “Don’t ya mind them. I’m Balin, Dwalin’s brother and Thorin’s advisor. It’s nice to finally meet your acquaintance after hearing so much about ya.”

“Nice to meet you, too! All of you.” You nodded to Fili and Kili, who returned your smile with one of their own. They were all but shoved away by even more dwarrows eager to make your acquaintance before Thorin joined your side and placed his hand on your lower back as they all introduced themselves.

You were pleased to finally meet Thorin’s traveling companions and what you had come to know of “The Company of Thorin Oakenshield”. Bofur, the one with the silly hat and loopy mustache, made a mention about a hobbit that also accompanied them on their journey, Bilbo Baggins, but he returned to the Shire shortly after the war was won. He sounded so charming based on Bofur’s description and Thorin’s additional inputs on his acts of bravery and honor. You were sad that you weren’t able to meet the guy, especially with how highly Thorin spoke of him.  

You bristled at the mention of the war that occurred when it came up in conversation a few times as it only regurgitated your worry for Thorin’s welfare and the traces of wounds and scars he was left with, but Thorin didn’t want to dampen this happy reunion with the gory details and was eager to show you his kingdom and thus made a move to usher you inside. It was a distraction you very much welcomed. That and feeling Thorin’s touch the entire time. 

With your arms linked together, he led you into the mountain to show you around the more important halls and wings he was especially proud of and the others piped in with their input. You were greeted rather respectively by everyone you came across. Some dwarves threw you odd looks (you were the only human, after all) but still offered a head nod in respect to your association with their king, others were distracted by Thorin’s presence and more in awe of you, but mostly they just seemed curious. 

Word had spread that Thorin’s lass had arrived and as you were being led inside, some dwarves offered you welcome gifts that about brought you to tears — you weren’t expecting for them to go through this trouble let alone prepare anything for your arrival, but you were moved that they were displaying acts of acceptance already without even having met you. As the tokens became more and more frequent the deeper you went, Thorin ordered for these gifts to be delivered to your own chambers so he could continue on with the tour without flustering you. But given the massive size of the place, there was no way you’d be able to see everything in one day, so Thorin limited the tour to very specific areas of interest while Balin explained the significance and history.

The Fourteen followed behind you both for a while before some of them slowly dispersed their separate ways. Dwalin stood guard next to Thorin and Fili next to you to sandwich you both together with Kili at his side. 

Eventually, Thorin came to a stop and turned to you with a warm smile. “I hate to leave you so soon after you just arrived, but there is a personal matter I must attend to before supper. For now, I leave you in the care of my kin to continue on in my place and you will be shown to your chambers in the royal wing.”

He chuckled affectionately at your pout and gave you a slight head bow in parting after kissing the back of your hand. “None of that now. Until supper, ghivashel. I will meet you at your chambers to escort you there.”

“Shall we?” Kili perked up, offering you his arm after you watched Thorin depart with Dwalin and Balin in tow. The rest of the company who had stuck with you until now bid you temporary farewell to tend to their own tasks before supper and it was just Kili and Fili left to show you around. They were still new to Erebor, from what you were told by them, but Kili saw fit to show you all of his personal favorite spots. He saved his most favorite for last: an overlook that was scheduled to be renovated; it was still in a destroyed state from the dragon Smaug attack and since it wasn’t linked to any important halls or rooms, its scheduled fixing was further down the pipeline for construction and was virtually always vacant and perfect for private getaways. Kili and Fili had arranged tables and some vegetation to make the seating area more zen and relaxing, but the real treat was the view. 

You really liked Thorin’s nephews and they seemed to have taken a great, sincere liking to you as well as you all became fast friends. In some ways, they reminded you of Thorin — who took a huge part in raising them during their childhood from what Fili explained during the tour.

“I can see why uncle is so taken with you,” Kili said. “I don’t think I’ve seen him this happy in quite some time!”

“Aye,” Fili concurred. “Every time he mentioned you—”

“Which was _often,_ ” Kili interjected with an affectionate eye roll.

“—he’d get this light in his eyes, but he missed you terribly and sulked around these halls for months.”

“Sulking? Really?” you questioned. Thorin was an expert brooder but you had never seen him sulk before. It was actually pretty funny to picture if not a little heartbreaking, too. Gods knows you sulked your fair share of Thorin-less nights and it wasn’t anything to laugh about. 

Fili nodded. “He was worried you might not come—”

“Fili!” Kili shoved his brother. “She wasn’t supposed to know!”

“It’s okay,” you assured them. Thorin’s letter had pretty much divulged that worry of his already, so hearing it from his nephews didn’t hurt as much as reading it from Thorin’s own hand did. But you were well passed that now, glad to just be here being shown around his beautiful mountain and knowing that you had an intimate reunion to look forward to later. “I understand why he would worry, but there was no need.”

“Aye. You’re here now,” Fili smiled. 

Kili quickly rebounded, “And thank the Maker for that! You wouldn’t believe how pissy he would get whenever—”

“ _There_ you are! What in Durin’s name are you both doing out here — _alone —_  on the terrace with a lass?” A tall dwarrowdam demanded with her hands on her wide hips. Both of them jumped in surprise and you would have laughed at their reaction had you not jumped right along with them. That was a no nonsense tone if you ever heard one. 

What you saw standing before you was basically a spitting image of Thorin save for the muscles and male shape. Her face was almost the same as his, but her nose and her cheeks were rounder and she had long sideburns that cupped her jaw instead of meeting at her chin as a completed beard like Thorin had. Her dark hair was down to her rear and roped with thick, intricate braids and adorned in precious metals weaved within the hair strands. She was dressed very sharply in a navy blue and gold-lined dress. 

“Escorting Lady Y/N around. I wanted to show her the best view of Erebor,” Kili replied, sweeping his arm to gesture to the land beyond the overpass. 

Fierce, cobalt blue eyes that were strikingly similar to Thorin’s shifted over to you and you made sure to hold them despite feeling unnerved. “Ah, so _you’re_ Thorin’s lass.” 

“Ma…” Fili moved closer to you, taking in your initial shock at her abrupt entrance and her crude tone as something he felt needed protecting. 

“I am,” you retorted proudly. “And you are?” Though you had a good guess. Fili and Kili looked from you to their mother a few times in stunned silence as you openly stared at each other as if an impending fight would be breaking out. 

She smirked but kept her chin high. “I’m Dis, Thorin’s sister. Hmm. Well, let’s see then,” the dwarrowdam beckons you over with a crook of her finger and hums to herself as she circled slowly, eyeing you with scrutinizing eyes. 

“Ma, be nice to her! Uncle will—”

“What, whack me with his cane? Thorin can stick his boot where the sun don’t shine! As his sister, I’m perfectly within my rights to gather my own opinion of who he’s summoned home to be his queen. I’d have met ya at the gate, dear, but it seems that no one bothered to invite me and I had to hear about it through word of mouth,” she admonished, giving a pointed look of disapproval to her sons. 

“Cane?” you asked, your question getting lost between the three of them and their own conversation.

“Don’t look at us!” Fili defended. 

“We had no part in that whatsoever,” Kili added.

She waved them away and stroked her long braided sideburns. “I find meeting the lass in private much more suitable anyway — don’t need my brother peeking over my shoulder as we get acquainted. No doubt he was purposefully keeping us apart until he deemed it ready to introduce you, the scoundrel.” She crossed her arms and quirked a stern brow at you. “So, how long have you been secretly courting?”

“Over two years,” you answered, fiddling with the courting bead you were very anxious to have placed in your hair. 

Her eyes softened. “Poor girl… it must’ve been just awful for you waiting so long for him.”

It was, but given where you were now, you didn’t wish to mull over it. You nodded and bit your lip, “I love him very much, of course it was awful. But I’m here with him now and that’s all that matters to me.”  

Dis smiled and nodded, “Aye, indeed. Fili, Kili, I’ll take over from here! You both run along and ready yourselves for dinner.”

They shared a worried look and laughed nervously, “That’s not necessary, Mother, besides what we’re wearing now should—”

“Fine, Kili. Then you both can come along and help me find Y/N something fetching to wear to entice your uncle for supper and assist me in undressing her for the fittings—”

“Well, see you at supper, Lady Y/N!” Taking the hint, Kili waved with beet red cheeks, already marching his way out with Fili eagerly following his lead. 

“Have fun!” Fili called over his shoulder. Dis waved merrily at them and threw an arm around your shoulders. Her plan to keep you to herself had worked flawlessly and you didn’t know if that was good or bad considering the conversation that just transpired. 

She laughed watching her sons scamper out of sight. 

“Ah, alone at last. Come, I’ll show you to your chambers.” She took off at a confident stride clearly expecting you to follow, so you quickened your pace to meet her, still unsure of the impression you were making.  

“Dis, you mentioned something about Thorin using a cane earlier. He wasn’t using one when I met him, or when he greeted me at the gates. Is he injured?” 

Her brows furrowed and she nodded. “Aye, he sustained a blade through the foot, the mad fool.” She caught sight of the worry in your eyes and gave you a warm smile, “Don’t worry, dear, it’s healing very cleanly. Should be another week before the cane is more for show than function, but he’s much too prideful to show weakness, especially in front of his loved ones. I suspect he didn’t want to cause worry. Especially to you.”

Your mind began to spin with worry anyway — was he planning to tell you about that? You couldn’t recall if Thorin had a limp of any kind when he ran to you, nor when you were walking side by side when he showed you around. 

“Although,” she continued. “Seeing the way he ran to you at the gates, he may very well be healed after all.”

“Yeah, well, I still wished he would’ve just—wait. I thought you said you weren’t invited to…?”

Dis winked at you. “I _wasn’t_ invited, and I did hear about it through word of mouth, but I still got there in time to watch you from afar. He hustled to you so fast you’d think he was greeting Mahal himself.”

You laughed at that, utterly charmed, “I can appreciate that sense of deviancy. I’d have done the same thing.”

She nodded appreciatively then watched you from the side as you continued on.

“I’d like to ask you something,” Dis said, coming to a stop. “How much do you know about dwarven culture?”

You surveyed her expression for any indication on why she was asking but her beautiful face revealed nothing. You thought back to some of the discussions Thorin had shared during your travels with one another. Blushing deeply at what you remembered more fondly, “Thorin told me what he could, at the time. He told me about… erm, bonding, that courted couples braid each other’s hair and fasten it with a special bead, and how hair in general is really important to dwarves as a whole. That’s why when we parted two years ago, I cut off a fair lock of hair as my gift of faith in his return to me and that I would wait for him—”

“You gave him a _whole lock_ of hair?!” Dis interjected, utterly shocked. As if you had offered a huge insult to her entire family line. 

Unsure how monumental the gesture was — Thorin played it off well enough when you gifted it to him — you could only nod meekly, hoping you didn’t give any type of grave offence. Dis looked positively flabbergasted. 

“Gifting your beloved with your own hair is very heavy, very serious business. Usually, cutting hair (or beards) is done as either punishment or an act of bereavement. But if given as a token of devotion towards a lover, you may as well as said your vows and bound your lives together. Goodness, I wasn’t sure about you at first but knowing that you gave him such a precious piece of you based on basic understanding of our culture, I can see that you truly do love him. You also have a particular spark about you that I find very charming.” She paused and looked you over with growing fondness. “Aye. You have my full support and approval — welcome to the family.”

Your cheeks burned when she drew you in for a forehead press, knowing from observation that this was one of the ways dwarves expressed affection to one another. You smiled gratefully. There was no way of knowing how the others would accept you, but as long as those closest to Thorin had given you their acceptance, you felt well and truly blessed. They were going to be your family, too, after all. 

“Was there ever a ‘something to entice Thorin in’, or was that all a ruse for us to get some girl time?” you asked once Dis broke away.

She erupted into laughter with her head dipped back. “No, no, I did have honest intent with that. Thorin’s hosting a feast in your honor and I want you dazzling like a gem — there’s also the matter of making a fine impression on our assembly who will be attending the gathering — they’re… well, they are very traditional. They already knew Thorin was involved, but they may not look kindly upon your race at first glance. We need to ease the way, especially when he announces your engagement; can’t have you dressed as you are, now that you’re living with us and a bit of prettying up ought to soften their gaze. Have you got a dress?” Dis asked.

You blushed. You didn’t have many belongings in terms of jewelry or clothes, and all the clothing you did have were meant for traveling and fighting and braving the elements in — nothing anywhere near “pretty” or “enticing”. You nervously fiddled with your already partly sullied traveling clothes. You did have some currency on hand, but you didn’t know if your meager earnings would be able to buy anything Dis had in mind for you to wear. 

“I don’t… I’ll have to buy one—”

“Shush, you’ll do no such thing! As Thorin’s consort, currency will never be in question. Besides, Thorin specifically ordered the tailor to make you several gowns—”

“Gowns!?”

“—for numerous occasions befitting your station. But I figured we’d surprise him with something more…” Dis ignored your fuss and waved her hands around searching for the right word. “Well…” she eyed your unisex traveling garb as if you had been rolling around in the mud with it. “Something ‘more’.”

With renewed enthusiasm, Dis linked your arms, chatting excitedly on how you should dress to knock Thorin to his knees. 

“I really appreciate your help with this but… you just met me and you’re being so nice. Why?” you asked curiously as you neared the royal wing. 

“You are blunt, I’ll give you that — it’s what family does, dear. Dwarves are highly family-oriented people and we always look out for our own. Thorin and my boys are all I have left and I want nothing but their happiness. Besides, us ladies need to stick together — there are some customs and cultural insights to uphold after you ascend to your status as Thorin’s wife that you need briefing on if you want to show those old fossils in the council that you mean business. Additionally, females here are so few and I’ve always wanted a sister and now I finally have one!” she exclaimed giddly. 

Warmth bloomed in your chest. “Does this mean you’ll tell me all of Thorin’s embarrassing stories from his childhood?”

Dis cackled and shot you a wicked grin. “Oh, aye! You’ll get to know each and every one of them. We’re going to get along just fine, dear!”

She led you down a wing that had definitely been given proper attention to renovation — if this had been the first thing you saw, you never would have guessed that the place had been in shambles. There were guards on patrol that you would pass by and they gave both of you a deep bow. Dis had pointed out which rooms belonged to who, especially Thorin’s who was just one door down from yours, before directing you to your chambers. 

She had begun discussing different outfit ideas the closer you got to your door but decided to settle on whatever had already been delivered to your chambers and would put Thorin’s focus on your hair. As soon as you made it inside, she practically shoved you in and closed the door behind her with her body. “Oh, the stories I need to share! Thorin won’t like it, but what’s a bit of embarrassment between siblings and in-laws? So!” Dis clapped with a dangerous gleam in her eye. “Tell me how you met!” 

 

* * *

 

Much later after he had taken care of the minute council business that required his direct involvement, Thorin dashed away to where he wanted to be most and gave a meaty knock on Y/N’s chamber doors. As he waited to be answered, he straightened out his clothing, adjusted his crown, and smoothed his hair and beard. His heart was full and filled to the brim with happiness now that Y/N was here. (She was really here!) He hadn’t felt so light since, well, their last tumble at the inn, come to think of it. To think that she was finally at his home... the woman he would be marrying! He had dreamed of this day the moment they had to part from one another. Thorin was beside himself and he could no longer stand being apart from Y/N any longer now that she was within his mountain. 

After having sent Dwalin off with that letter he’d written her, Thorin was a mess. He had spun into a gut twisting state of anxiety and nerves that only served to distract him from his duties. His dreams and waking moments were awash with the lass who captured his heart and the monumental experience they shared together at an odd inn. He didn’t sleep or eat very well and the only thing that kept him sane from wondering if she still waited for him was Y/N’s lock of hair. Whenever he felt especially tense, he would retreat to somewhere private and bring that soft lock to his lips, imagining he could materialize Y/N here by his will alone and gather her in his arms and breathe her lovely scent in to calm him. The bonded dwarrow inside had no doubt that his lass would come home to him, but he did have a sick feeling of worry that she might not after knowing all the responsibility she would be taking on. A human ruling a dwarven kingdom was enough pressure on its own, but her entire lifestyle would turn upside down. What if she didn’t come? 

Did she still think of him? Was her heart missing a piece of itself after he left, as Thorin’s heart was? Thorin had confided in his nephews to unload his stress even though they didn’t have sweethearts of their own to be able to fully relate, but he did take comfort in their reassurance and kind words. Balin had also proved to be a much needed confidante during this horrid waiting period.

When it came time to start expecting Dwalin’s return, Thorin didn’t know what he would have done if the ravens had reported that his cousin came alone. He paced his balcony with his heart threatening to pound right out of his chest. He didn’t know how long he walked back and forth out there in the cool weather but it was causing his previously injured foot to ache with the pressure he had put on it. As soon as a raven landed and informed him that Dwalin (and his beloved) had arrived, Thorin all but crumbled to his knees in relief, but instead he sounded the bells and called for his closest men to join him in bidding his One welcome and hurried off to wait for her at the gates. 

Mahal, the first thing he wanted so desperately to do the moment Y/N came into sight was kiss her senseless and carry her off to bed. But he wanted their proper reunion to be done in a more private setting, especially with the type of coupling that he had in mind for them. But first and foremost, he wanted to give Y/N the explanations she was owed; the ones he had promised her. After the whole Laketown debacle, he didn’t want to be known as the dwarven king who couldn’t keep his word, especially to his love. 

Although he had announced to his closest friends that they were basically betrothed, he had yet to broach the subject to his council, as he wasn’t sure if Y/N was going to come and did not want to set questionable expectations or have any ill-intent sent her way if she declined his summons. Even though Thorin would result in looking a fool, he would rather shoulder the shame and embarrassment of being denied than for Y/N to ever contend with hostility for matters and circumstances that nobody outside the two of them would understand. But their love had proved to be sound and his fears were eradicated, leaving nothing but his heart and arms wide open.

Standing outside her chamber door, Thorin was nervous. He was excited. He wanted to have Y/N all to himself and his mind was racing with the desire to touch her, kiss her, and hold her. His face flushed as he thought of the possibilities of fully establishing their bond this night, if she wished it of him—

Once the door opened, Thorin’s mood immediately shifted as his eyes widened in momentary surprise. He crossed his thick arms and leveled his stare before nodding once in greeting.

“Dis.”

“Thorin.”

“Care to explain what you are doing in my consort’s chambers?” he asked. 

She lingered in the doorway, opening it just enough to fit half her body through so he couldn’t see past. “Getting acquainted with my future sister-in-law, of course! Seeing as I wasn’t invited to the receiving party I thought I’d invite myself for some female time, just us ladies.”

Thorin frowned and she smirked triumphantly, practically snickering, “You think you’re so clever. How long did you think you could hide her from me?”

In truth? He was surprised she wasn’t at the greet with everyone else. Dis would never openly disrespect him in front of their people, but (in private) if ever Thorin made a demand or comment that Dis didn’t agree with, there was little for anyone to do to stop her from setting her mind to it. He didn’t overtly tell her _not_ to come, he just conveniently left her out of his inner circle when he announced Y/N’s arrival and word must have escaped as they made their way to the gates. He meant to be discreet, but alas, dwarves took to gossip like a bairn to mother’s milk. 

“What have you said to her?” he asked suspiciously. He didn’t trust that look on her face one bit and wasn’t sure how their interaction went. 

Dis creased her brows and looked genuinely offended and Thorin immediately regretted his words. But he couldn’t help it, he knew how Dis was and he would have at least wanted to warn Y/N about her character before being subjected to it — she meant no harm, but for those who weren’t used to dealing with dwarrowdams, he didn’t want Y/N to feel attacked, or worse… for them to butt heads due to their strong personalities, or for Dis to scare her off. Thorin loved his sister dearly, but she could be so brash and all of this was still so new and overwhelming for Y/N. They still had yet to even properly talk things through, after all. 

“Oh, for the love of—! Thorin, you make it seem as if I were going to go to war with her. Relax! And have a little faith in me while you’re at it.”

Thorin tried peeking his head over her person and caught a huge glimpse of nothing and he suddenly felt very foolish; as king who was currently still wearing his crown no less, to be kept away from his wife-to-be by his own sister when it wasn’t even their wedding day — how ridiculous. Of all citizens in Erebor, Dis would be the only person who could get away with such heinous acts. “Is she even inside or were you laying in wait for her return?”

“Y/N happens to enjoy my company, don’t you, dear?” she finished loudly, canting her head over her shoulder. Thorin tried angling his head to catch sight over his sister as he heard Y/N’s giggling voice carry over, “I sure do!”

Relief settled in his chest; all seemed well. But now, he had enough with the stalling. He wanted to be with his woman and nobody was going to keep her from him any longer. 

“I am pleased you two have become such bosom companions, but I would like to spend some time alone with my One before supper, if it is all the same to you.” Thorin waved his hand in a shooing motion as a clear message that Dis had worn out her welcome. 

“All right already — she’s all yours! Try to make it back in time for dinner gets cold, aye? She’s had a long day,” Dis requested, leveling a knowing look to Thorin. He had to fight the powerful urge not to roll his eyes, so he settled for a small grin bearing no promises. Before Dis broke away and let him through, she dropped her voice so only he could hear, “I like the lass very much. She’ll fit in well once she gets settled. I’m happy for you, brother.” Then waving over her shoulder as she bounded away, “Goodbye, Y/N! I’ll see you at supper!”

“Bye, Dis! And thanks!”

Just in case anyone else happened to be passing by, or attempting to snag his attention, Thorin darted into the safety of Y/N’s chambers and locked them in together. 

The moment he finished latching the door, and before he could utter a word to her, Y/N had snuck up behind him and turned him around so she could grasp his face in her hands and as their mouths met each other eagerly, they were a clash of hands, tongue and teeth. “I have been waiting to set my hands on you since the moment you arrived,” Thorin rasped in between kisses, slithering his fingers into her hair and holding her head in place. “I missed you so.”

“Show me,” she commanded and bit his lip for good measure as she tugged away. Her own hands tangled in his thick locks and she thrusted her body close that he slammed against the door with a grunt. 

He mumbled a pleasured affirmative against her mouth in return, but anything he said afterward was swallowed among an especially heated kiss that brought both of them into their own world where only they existed. If Thorin’s heart was soaring before, it was drifting far off into the atmosphere now. His brain had completely shut off and his body had resumed control; the hibernated bond flickering to life with his other half in his arms and pressed tightly against him. His tongue snaked out to taste her and then he trailed his affections down Y/N’s throat and grasped her breasts in his hands while she met him kiss for kiss, bite for bite, and rut for rut. 

With their lips locked and opening in exploration, they exchanged wet kisses and aroused mewls and groans as they reacclimated with one another’s touches. It felt so relieving to be able to fully express his love without any restraints. He had dreamed of this so often that he almost couldn’t believe it was really happening. But the reality of it all proved much more beautiful than anything his mind had created. Thorin led them away from the door without taking his mouth off of her. He managed to back Y/N into the vanity chair well across the way, seating her down in it so that their faces were now more level with him having the slight advantage in height. He broke the kiss with his chest heaving heavily and his face flushed with need. His body was heated up and ready to take her and from the look in her eyes, she was more than ready to receive him. 

Y/N was wanting and needy, and it only served to spur him on with the desire to please his woman and his hardening cock all but jumped to volunteer. Thorin’s deep voice growled and he slammed his lips back to hers, swallowing a loud moan of hers that beelined right down into his trousers and he felt like they were a couple of mischievous youngsters necking in private. It made him feel giddy and excited to have something this precious in his life.  

Thorin will take his lass tonight, but first, they needed to have words. But before even that, they had some making up to do. With a masculine smile at the thought, Thorin pulled away and Y/N chased after his mouth. He indulged and pecked her lips once, twice, and then stepped away allowing his eyes to properly take her in starting from her blushing cheeks. He chuckled when she whimpered, reaching for more contact from him. 

“Missed me, have you?” he chuckled, seductively wiping his thumb across his bottom lip to wipe the excess moisture from Y/N’s mouth.

“Every day,” Y/N whispered sweetly, her darkening eyes locked onto his every movement.

Thorin opened his mouth, intending to tease her some more, but his breath hitched when his eyes fully caught a good visual of his lass and he felt his jaw drop. He had to take another step back just to get a proper look. 

“Oh, Y/N! You look...” Though it was slightly disheveled now, Dis had obviously prepared her hair for styling; leaving most of it clipped back and unfinished and though Thorin was peculiarly irked and only slightly upset that his sister had gotten to her hair first, he understood that Dis had left a fair amount of hair left unplaited — for him. Thorin’s eyes landed on the particular place where Y/N’s courting braid was intended to go and his mind reeled with the need to both finish her updo and let it all down so he could feel it in his hands and brushing against his skin. His fingers twitched, ready and willing to get started on either of those options. 

But then there was the dress. He had never seen Y/N in a dress before and the one she had on complimented the colors of his own garb. She was adorned and form-fitted in the finest, softest silk lined with small jewels and threads of gold interwoven in delicate, feminine patterns in the fabric that, as a whole, clung to Y/N in all the right places as far as he was concerned. His eyes lingered in some areas and even longer in, _ahem_ , others. His eyes ate up every inch and curve of her body to the point that his trousers became much too tight for him than before. He adjusted his stance in hopes of some relief without overtly rearranging himself. 

Oh, he very much liked the sight of her in that divine dress. Mostly because he wanted to slowly reveal her body to him as he took her out of it.

Y/N stood to meet him from the vanity table, her face still blushing from her simmering arousal and her lips swollen and red from his lips and beard. “I look ridiculous, I know,” she blurted nervously, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and smoothing out a nonexistent flaw on the skirting that had beautifully accentuated her lovely thighs. Thorin finally snapped out of the bewitching trance and found the ability to move his feet and close the distance between them to take her into his arms once more. 

“I believe the word you intended to use was ‘resplendent’, my lady.” Thorin chided, winding his arms around her waist, dipping down to grip her plush bottom. “This dress is going to make us late for supper.”

He didn’t like how thin she had become since the last time he saw her. Had she and Dwalin not found enough to eat on the way? She certainly would feast well tonight whether or not they left this room! Thorin had remembered all of her favorite foods and desserts that she had told him and in preparation for her arrival, he instructed his cooks to make an abundance of all of them so she could eat her fill and feel at home. 

And when their engagement was publicly announced, he would sit her in his lap and hand feed her at every meal just so he had the reassurance that she was properly fed. 

“I’ve never worn anything like this before… it’s strange to me,” she mumbled, brushing the pads of her fingers through his beard effectively turning his legs to pudding and his cock to stone. She continued with more confidence in her tone, “You, however, look sinfully handsome. It should be a crime to look as attractive as you.”

Thorin chuckled with his eyes glittering and his chest swelling with pride. “If there is such a crime, then I am gladly at fault. But you truly do look stunning, my jewel. I wish to bedeck you in the most extravagant garments and jewels my kingdom has to offer befitting your title. You shall have only the best and I will not settle for any less than that for my queen.”

She made a face at that and he nuzzled her closer to him so that their noses were touching. He felt her resist when he tried to coax the dubious expression off with a few sweet kisses upon her lips and he asked, “Does that displease you?”

“It’s not that, I just don’t want our relationship to be based on material things, or signified only on what you can give me. I fell in love with your character and your heart, not your unknown status or your possessions. If you were going to shower me with anything I’d rather it be…” her voice trailed off and she bit her lip shyly. Though he understood why she would say such a thing, the hot-blooded dwarf in him had a goal to help Y/N understand what jewels and material worth meant for his people, particularly when it came to offering them as tokens of love to their Ones. But they had all the time in the world to educate her on that; Thorin grinned to himself. 

“Tell me, sweetling. Whatever you want, it is yours.” 

Gaining courage with a deep breath, Y/N’s hands drifted over his heavy shoulders as she leaned closer and whispered something he didn’t quite catch in his ear. 

“Hm?”

Burying her face against the side of his head so he could not see her, Y/N sheepishly murmured, “I said I’d want to be showered by your kisses… all over my body.”

A deep rumble of approval purred out of Thorin’s throat. _That can definitely be arranged,_ he thought. He pulled away enough to capture her face in his hands and gazed deeply in her eyes. He found her sudden shyness adorable. 

“I shall give you all of that and more,” he vowed before pulling her into him for a kiss. He had meant for only one so that they could begin their talk, but that one kiss had led to several along with his cloak and top coat carelessly discarded on the floor. He left them there. He much preferred Y/N wrapped around him than his regal attire. It was now Y/N who pulled away first, leaving both of them panting heavily. 

“I much like this ‘hello’ than the one we had at the gates,” she giggled with a happy sigh.

Thorin laughed through his nose, euphoric from her kisses alone, feeling that tingle of their bond humming through him anxious to renew itself and strengthen through their overdue consummation. “I am not partial to public displays of affection, myself. When we are married, however, if you should wish us to be more forward with an audience present—" 

“No!” she squeaked, clutching onto him. “I mean, I’d be happy with hand holding and occasional public kisses, but our intimate moments should be private.”

He smirked at her blush, arbitrarily fingering the section of hair he wanted to braid as he spoke to her, “I concur. No doubt we will be fulfilling many fantasies as it is. I would prefer not offering visual aid, though most will likely let their imaginations run rampid now that they have seen us in the halls together earlier today.” He stopped and grimaced. 

“My nephews in particular are especially curious... What?” he smiled, loving the big grin taking up her face and pulling her close to slide his hands over her lovely curves.

Y/N bit her lip but a giggle escaped regardless, “I just love you so much. I've been waiting for the day to finally see you again and it’s nice seeing you so… unfettered.”

He beamed, for he felt unfettered. Well, at least he would be once he upheld his promise. “We shall never be parted again, ghivashel. I cannot begin to tell you how uplifted I feel now that you are here. There is so much to tell you. Unfortunately, not all of it is good.”

“Oh, Dis mentioned that you have a cane?” Y/N’s tone had slipped from playful to concerned quickly as he leaned back to observe his posture and he frowned. She was not supposed to know about that. And he was _fine_ , thank you very much, Dis!

“Had,” he corrected firmly. “Worry not, I truly have no need of it. It is more decorative now than anything.”

Y/N looked apprehensive about that but nodded anyway. Thorin wanted to pull her in for another kiss, but knew that if he did, they would never get the discussion taken care of. More importantly, he wanted to place a courting braid in her hair. He wished to plait the betrothal weave, but for now he would hold off. All the more reason to get to talking. Before he slipped and did it anyway; social protocols be damned. 

He had to chuckle to himself, the need to talk to her was so similar to the situation they had at the inn. The talk then paving the way for the future of their relationship, just as this one would. “May I braid your hair, my love?” he asked. He watched with proud love for her when she readily whipped out the bead he had given and he knew without asking that she always had it on hand, just as he had her hair. 

“Have a seat,” he gestured to the vanity chair but swallowed back a surge of lust when she, instead, sashayed over to the bed. The coy look she gave him over her shoulder as she perked up for him told him that she knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Are you trying to seduce me…” Mahal, even he had noticed that his voice had gone deeper. 

“Is it working?” she sassed back, contorting herself into a very appealing feminine arch. 

He was all the more agreeable to cave in as he crawled up behind her like an eager predator, planting kisses in her hair, running his hands gently over her shoulders and arms before sweeping the hair away from her neck and sectioning off strands for styling.

He pressed another kiss to her neck and hardened further at her pleasured sigh when she tipped her head back. He groaned softly in response, trying to keep calm. But Durin's ax, did he want to ravish her. “I shall always fall victim to your charms, sweet one. Always.”

Thorin paused just for a moment and kissed the top of her head. “But first, I must keep my word to you. Where is your brush?” When he got what he needed and situated himself behind her he got to work. Y/N had scooted forward so she sat at the edge of the bed with her legs hanging off the side and placed her hands behind her to rest on his thighs.

“I’m ready!” He could hear the smile in her voice and he felt so unburdened to finally divulge all the things he wanted to tell her from many moons ago. Thorin decided to start his story from the time when Smaug attacked, and all the relevant events that followed that thus marked and revised the timeline for his journey to reclaim his home. 

Although he made a point to move slowly yet efficiently, Thorin had finished her hair long before he finished regaling the tale of his quest from start to finish. It was such a relief to finally get everything out in the open and despite the trials and tribulations and close calls that transpired from then until now, he felt accomplished and prideful of his efforts. There was nothing he would hide from her now or ever again and he didn’t plan to. Y/N listened with rapt interest and remained quiet for most of it, only asking questions for certain things that she didn’t quite understand, or making a comment when appropriate. But when he concluded the tale, she had leaned her body against his and they held each other for a good while so she could soak it all in.

The time for supper was fast approaching and Thorin knew Y/N must have been starved for nutrients. But she had stayed here with him talking out her thoughts on what he shared and how surprised and proud she was of him and his bravery. Which made him feel like he could bench press those three trolls he came across a year ago as if they were nothing but loaves of bread. 

And as hands started to wander, he wondered if feeding her would be best before making love. He had an extensive night planned that didn’t involve either of them getting out of bed until well after morning. However, this particular supper wasn’t entirely mandatory but they were still expected to show so he could introduce her to the kingdom — and, more importantly, the council. 

“So… may I officially introduce you as my wife to my kingdom this coming week, or do you need more time? I can postpone our engagement announcement to a later date, if need be.”

Y/N ran her hand up into his hair and down his face and he leaned into her touch with a soft nuzzle. She said, “You can announce it whenever you want. I’m ready to be your wife.”

A tingle shot through him at those words, especially paired with the way she was looking into his eyes. 

And then she spoke the three words that would inevitably cause them to be late to supper. But Thorin could care not.

After all, when the love of your life who is dressed so divinely asks you to "Make me yours", after nearly two years of waiting to establish that irrevocable bond, how could a hot-blooded male dwarven king possibly refuse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I love you all and reading your comments and thoughts on my work. As I wrap up on a couple requests I've been sent, I've considered concluding this series with any remaining chapters and when I crank out more mini stories for our Hobbit characters I'd section them off as different works instead of putting them all into one series like this one -- it was commented that if they were their own works it would make the stories easier to find. I still have quite a bit to do to properly complete the unfinished stories in this series, but I may not add anything new outside of the remaining requests and chapters just so the future works are easier found and you all have a better idea of just how massive some of my chapters can be >;D Thoughts?


	18. Shouldn’t Be A Good In Goodbye (BofurxDwalin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a drunken evening stemming from an ‘who can outdrink who’ contest, two unlikely lovers wake up in bed together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: NSFW (and some fluff because I'm a sap). 
> 
> Written primarily in Bofur's POV. This is a request for the lovely Joeybelle (I hope you like and I'm sorry if you don't >< I'll make up for it with another Bofur chapter) who wanted either another Bofur x Reader pairing or a Bofur x Dwalin pairing. I decided upon the latter just because there's so few of them out there — but I definitely have another Bofur x reader chapter in the works! I wasn’t sure how explicit to make this particular pairing, but my hands ended up slipping regardless. (I honestly have no issue reading or writing same sex smut, and I do have a guilty pleasure of reading various M/M hobbit shippings ;x) I kept it relatively mild in detail but still pretty saucy.
> 
> If you've read through my previous stories on here, then y'all know me: I write monstrously long chapters, haha. But I didn't want to overdo it on this one, so I challenged myself by keeping it short and sweet (or... spicy, however you wanna see it) without sacrificing too much detail of the story. Please excuse any mistakes or grammar issues that I might have missed during editing. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and thank you all for reading, leaving comments, and kudos! <3

It was a long day of strenuous labor, but what better way to wind down than with all of your mates at the dining area with a round of ale to commemorate a job well done for a project finally completed — and with the promise of more amusing activities around the corner, no less! 

Bofur partook in mingling with some good fellows with hearty drinking and conversation. His thoughts were on another, however. And so were his eyes. For every song sung and every joke told, Bofur’s gaze flicked over to that one person. Waiting… hoping. Looking for that special sign they shared.  

And later during the evening, once Dwalin finally gave the signal and Bofur returned it indicating they were ready to be alone and away from the others, Bofur casually broke away first and waited anxiously for Dwalin to join him in his room — he was careful not to be seen sneaking inside even though the majority of the mountain were down celebrating. The two of them had been meeting like this for awhile now, and only during the evenings or in the late hours of the night. They met for one purpose and one purpose only: relieving pent-up sexual frustrations. Lovers with no strings attached. 

At least… that’s how it all started. 

Due to the results of a particularly drunken evening that led to them waking up naked in bed together, the two unlikely bed mates had struck up an arrangement. An arrangement they kept it hidden, as they didn't know what their friends and family would think of the odd coupling and more so because neither had any interest in any romantic or emotional attachments beyond the physical play. During the beginning of this relationship, they often did some talking — definitely some drinking — to lighten the tension before they got to it.

After a few nights like this underway, now they were quite close and no longer needed any ice-breaking to begin their intimate rendezvous.

But now Bofur was feeling nervous; he was nervous because he had begun feeling something blossoming in his heart for Dwalin that he couldn’t fight off anymore. He didn’t know how or when it happened, but he did know what it meant: they couldn’t keep doing this for very much longer. It would be against the rules… Bofur knew he should have brought it up the moment the feelings started, but he didn’t want to lose Dwalin. Not that Dwalin was his to lose, he thought sadly. Aside from their mind blowing encounters, he loved the way the warrior fit snuggled up behind him when they finished and the warmth he brought with him to bed. He looked forward to their bed talk and giving little bits and pieces of their day. Well before they slept together, Bofur long admired Dwalin’s rough personality and was endeared to his softer side that only a select few were borne witness to but now he knew him at a more sensual level, he was terrified of losing that. 

And he was also scared that someone else would take notice of Dwalin and steal him away. The very thought of his lover doing any of the things he and Bofur did together with someone else was like a kick in the gut. But keeping his feelings from Dwalin, and having him find out about them, might just hurt worse. It's not like Dwalin showed any signs of reciprocation. In fact, he was the one who suggested that they stop fooling around the moment one of them felt something for the other, or if one of them became interested in someone else. As such, Bofur often deliberated on whether or not he should fess up and decided that whatever night they coupled would be the night he would do it, but he always lost his nerve. Maybe he could find a way tonight to bring it up, after one last time together. It was a shot in the dark, but there was always that small chance that he just might feel the same way.

Bofur sighed to himself and began undoing his pigtails, knowing Dwalin preferred his hair down. And as he dressed himself down and crawled under the covers fully nude, he slipped his hand down to his sex, intending to ready himself with naughty thoughts of what was to come from his lover. But instead, he thought back to the night that changed everything for him. When his heart wasn't something he could lose. 

 

* * *

 

“Are ye daft? Nobody can outdrink me!” Dwalin boasted with a hearty laugh. 

Bofur, sitting across from him with a smug smirk said, “All right then, why don’t you put yer mug where yer mug is!” Bofur snatched up two mugs filled to the brim with ale and pushed one across to Dwalin and lifted the other to his lips. 

Bristling at the challenge, Dwalin narrowed his gaze with ferocious intent and clopped their mugs together accepting what was presented. The two were drinking lightly and speaking about the day’s progress when Nori made a rather admirable comment on Bofur’s aptitude for holding back his drink, to which Dwalin felt the need to diminish with his own skill. 

And from there, the two had garnered the attention of all surrounding tables. Wagers were opened, backs were slapped, and an endless stream of mugs were poured. Balin was the mediator to oversee that every last drop was emptied, and some of the dwarves sat beside each of them to count their finished mugs to hold the tally. 

The prize? Well, that wasn’t exactly established. As is the usual dwarven way, it was more winning the admiration of their peers and defending their title that was the true reward for their efforts. 

It was on!

Neither gave up; gulping down drink after drink passed their way, eyes locked on the other waiting for any sign of weakness or tapping out. Bofur recalled making some jests and emasculating remarks just to goad him, to which Dwalin was ready to dispute with his fists, but their brawling remained purely verbal until Bofur was finally announced as the victor -- Dwalin was far too gone to acknowledge that. 

Dwalin was heavily hammered in the aftermath of the contest. Faring about the same (he definitely got a run for his money) Bofur proceeded, with the help of Balin, to walk Dwalin to his chambers. Balin left shortly after to rejoin the festivities and Bofur decided to stay in Dwalin’s room to sober up a little before returning to his own. 

“Why don’t we drink together more? We should be drinking mates!” Dwalin slurred. 

“Oh, aye, I’d drink to that!”

“Another then!” Dwalin declared loudly, cupping his hand in the air. “Where’s the barmaid?”

Bofur weaved and steadied himself on the wall, hoping the world would stop spinning soon. “S’not here, lad. We’ve been cut off.”

“How dare they cut us off!” Dwalin growled, making a move towards the door. Bofur restrained him with difficulty; Dwalin was very heavy due to the sheer amount of muscle he had paired with drunken force. But he coerced him back to the bed, chuckling how they’ll get more tomorrow and distracting him with jovial topics. 

Both of them talked, joked and laughed amiably with one another. But everything changed when he tucked a wobbly Dwalin into bed after helping him out of his upper attire and they shared a look that lasted a beat longer than appropriate between friends. Dwalin grabbed his arm before Bofur pulled away and looked him dead in the eye to say, “Yer mustache is frothy, lad. Let me get that for ya.” Before pulling him into a searing kiss that led to one wild, passionate night that Bofur ever recalled having. 

The next morning, as the moment of clarity on just what they did struck him fully, Bofur was flabbergasted and shocked. To confirm that it all actually happened, he peeked over and saw Dwalin was out cold beside him. _Well, this is cosy!_ Bofur thought to himself. It wasn’t the first time he’d tangled himself with the male sex, but it was the first time he woke up sharing the same bed as Dwalin. _He is absurdly male and handsome. Cor! That chest,_ thought Bofur, feeling a stirring in his nethers just at the thought that he might have kissed a path down all that hard muscle— 

Dwalin’s eyes blinked open a few minutes later, registered his surroundings and who he was looking at before they widened in shock. In a rush, the warrior sat upright and reached over to snag the blanket to cover his chest but his hand stilled in the air. What was the point in protecting his flex of modesty now? Not when the possibility of… well… Dwalin’s face heated up in embarrassment. 

Bofur stared back at him with a look of mutual bewilderment amidst an undertone of understanding — he could scarcely believe where he was, either. Dwalin coughed and cleared his throat. “Did we—uh, did we…?” he gestured between them, unable to bring himself to meet Bofur’s eye or even get the words out. 

Bofur winced as he sat up with him, noting a dampness in his bottom and knowing just how it came to be there. “Judging from the soreness of my bum, that would be an ‘aye’, lad.”

Dwalin’s breath left him in a rush of momentary panic and he ran a hand over his smooth scalp down to where his remaining hair ended. His head was heavy and clouded with a dense fog of last night’s affairs that he couldn’t clearly see past. He remembered drinking with his mates but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember anything that happened after. And if the soreness in his prick was anything to go by, the two of them had had one hell of a roll in the hay. He glanced over at Bofur, who was twirling his loopy mustache in deep thought. 

“Do ye remember anythin’ that happened?”

Bofur remembered enough. Not every little detail in his own foggy mind, but he remembered… well, _enough._ And enough to garner the opinion that he very much enjoyed himself despite not finishing. He had a mind to tweak the truth a bit, but the look in Dwalin’s eyes had ripped the honesty from him. 

“Aye, fer the most part. Gets a wee bit foggy after the drinkin’ contest, but I remember that I won, Balin and I carried you to bed, then ye yakin’ me to bed with ya after you snogged me. And little bits n’ pieces of ending up in yer bed with you mounted behind me.”

Dwalin groaned into his hands and Bofur felt a twinge in his stomach. Sure, they hadn’t planned this, but it was a blow to anyone’s ego to feel so undesired and calamitous by someone you were intimate with, drunken relation or not. Unless Dwalin preferred females, in which case...

“Ya don’t fancy the fellas, do ya?” Bofur chuckled dryly. 

He couldn’t help but feel deflated at Dwalin’s visible regret and he wished he would have had the foresight or know how to sober up in the hall or in his own room to avoid this type of humiliation. It seemed like such a grand idea at the time under the influence, but now here they were. Dwalin certainly didn’t bother to hide how uncomfortable this situation made him feel and Bofur wanted to disappear. And he would have. If he were clothed. Now he was too self-conscious to get out of bed what with Dwalin being able to see him in his full glory post-sex. 

“I’ve never been with a lad before… in that way,” Dwalin mumbled quietly. Bofur nodded in understanding. With how little females there were in their population, sometimes dwarrows turned to each other for help in alleviating sexual urges. Some would go all the way and others not so much. Dwalin looked at him from the side and spoke again, “Erm, was I—are you—uh, are ye hurt at all? Was I too rough on ya?”

Bofur perked up at the concern, but didn’t dare get his hopes up further than that. Dwalin may be a bit of a brute to most, but he was a caring soul deep down and had enough honor in his being to rival even Thorin’s. 

Bofur cheerily waved that off. “Nothin’ I couldn’t handle.” Dwalin blushed deeper and Bofur thought it was kind of charming seeing him at a loss for words.

“Have ye taken me?”

And now Bofur’s ears were burning, “P-pardon?”

Dwalin faced away as he ran another hand over his scalp and down his hair. “Ye mentioned yer bum was sore, but mine feels fine. Was I taken by you?”

Bofur frowned in thought, trying to recall, but he was most certain that his role was more on the receiving side of things. “I don’t reckon I did…”

Dwalin rumbled something out that could have been any one of these, “Thank Mahal,” “Oh, I see,” or “Aye.”

A stretch of awkward quiet formed between them. Bofur looked over his shoulder at Dwalin, who already had his eyes on him. “Y’all right, Dwalin?”

He nodded. 

“Ye sure?”

“Aye, it’s just... “ Dwalin blushed. “I wish I could remember what happened after we left the dining hall.”

Bofur sighed, wishing he could remember less. Things were going to be awkward from here on, he knew it. “Doubt anybody knows you shagged a dwarrow, if that’s what yer worried about. I won’t tell a soul.”

Dwalin huffed and waved that away. “I appreciate that. But no, that doesn’t bother me. It’s been a long time since I was intimate with anyone, is all. Don’t even know if it was any good.”

“Oh, it was!” Bofur blurted without thinking. 

He turned away just before Dwalin eyes eyes could reach him. “I mean—argh, Mahal. All right, I’ll be honest. I don’t remember much so this could very well be the ale’s memory talking, but the bits I do remember were… quite mind-blowing. I haven’t had a partner in ages, and I didn’t know how much I needed to feel someone’s hands on me again until last night. Your kiss was somethin’ else, even if you would never had gone for it while sober.” 

He heard Dwalin intake a deep breath behind him after the rustle of sheets, indicating he had moved to rest against the headboard of his bed and he heard the grin in his voice. “Was it? It’s been a while for me, too.”

Bofur gulped, his morning erection had made an appearance and was still withstanding. He had to get out of there before Dwalin saw, but he was curious to kissing Dwalin sober, wondering if it was anything like what his drunken mind recalled. This was already too weird. He finally plucked up his courage and climbed out of bed to retrieve his clothing, hoping they were strewn somewhere close in the room so that he could keep his back towards—

“By my beard, I left marks on… your…” Dwalin’s voice drifted off, his eyes not bothering to hide the fact that he was looking right at Bofur’s muscled bum before locking onto his crotch the moment Bofur swung around to look at himself. Dwalin stared in awe. Either his own morning wood didn’t wear off or speaking about their coupling had gotten him hard; Dwalin couldn’t help but be impressed  — and just a tad glad his bottom wasn’t used to sheath _that_ mountain of a prick. But still, he couldn’t help but wonder what that might feel like. Though his memory was foggy, little snippets of images fluttered through his mind, causing his cock to throb. He entertained the thought, based on what Bofur said, on how long it’s been since anyone’s hands had been on him and what it might be like if Bofur was willing to be open to a certain proposition. 

Bofur smirked but blushed just the same. “Yers is mighty impressive as well, if memory serves.”

Dwalin made a noncommittal sound and was only dimly aware that he was still lengthening under the sheets and pitching a tent in the process but couldn’t look away. Sure, Dwalin took pride in being quite well-endowed, but he was nowhere near as thick as _that_! How would it feel being taken by such a beast, he wondered. Did Bofur receive any enjoyment from last night? Finally tearing his eyes off of that awe-inspiring specimen and up into Bofur’s quirky brown eyes, Dwalin asked, “Did you finish?”

He didn’t. Because Dwalin had taken him so abruptly, pounding into him with no abandon (which was such a glorious, new pleasure on both of them) and stopping until he emptied his load and passed out on top of him from drunken and physical exhaustion. Bofur made a face and scratched the back of his neck, not knowing exactly how to form the words. 

Dwalin blanched.

“So, I used ya as if you were an object! Och, I am ashamed of myself fer treatin' ya that way. Well, all things considered, you did happen to win. If ya want me to, uh, return the favor, I…” Dwalin struggled with his words, unsure how to offer himself properly. This whole situation was so awkward and new to him. But he was surprised at how open he was to the idea. Something about seeing Bofur's hair down had brought out his attractiveness in a way that he never would have noticed had they not tangled the way that they did. 

Bofur seemed to sense Dwalin’s reluctance and his pride wouldn’t have Dwalin pitying him so. “That’s not necessary, we were drunk and it was just a silly bet. I wouldn’t want ya makin’ yerself uncomfortable fer my sake.”

“But I… what about you? I violated you in such an intimate place and ye didn’t even get anythin’ out of it.”

Oh, I did! Bofur wanted to say. But instead, “Really, Dwalin, you don’t have to; I was very willing. Trust me, yer right impressive and powerful. I was givin’ the thrill of my life last night and ya took very good care of me despite our being hammered. I’m only sad you don’t remember any of it.”

“Then let me try again,” Dwalin insisted firmly, approaching him slowly. Bofur’s cock twitched in anticipation, though he didn’t trust his ears. But he trusted what he saw. When Dwalin approached him he didn’t bother hiding his arousal from him. 

“If yer willin’, of course,” Dwalin added. 

Not trusting his voice, Bofur's head bobbed as he nodded watching as Dwalin knelt in front of him and wonderingly ran his fingertips up his thigh causing Bofur’s breath to hitch.

“What happens after...?” he questioned.

Dwalin brought up his other hand and applied more pressure in massaging his calloused palms up the muscle of Bofur’s legs and thighs. “Well, maybe we can make a thing of this. We aren't taken, got nobody to warm our beds, yer satisfied with what you see, and I'm satisfied with what I see...”

Dwalin gave him a tantalizing lick and Bofur’s breath came in on a gasp and left on a soft groan.  

“So what do ya think? Do you want to become lovers?”

 

* * *

 

Well in the throes of that memory, Bofur was unaware of the figure looming in the doorway before they quietly slipped inside.

“Gettin’ started without me, are ya?” 

Bofur gasped and immediately stopped what he was doing, but relaxed and smirked at Dwalin’s devilish wink. He started taking off his clothes and making a show of it.

“What were you thinkin’ about, hmm?” Dwalin asked huskily, quirking a brow. 

Bofur grunted and watched with hungry eyes as Dwalin’s magnificent broad chest was revealed as his top parted in the center to show off his large pecs. Tattoos traveled over the strong arms that joined a well-sculpted chest and he eyed the trail of hair that disappeared into Dwalin's trousers. Bofur’s hand gripped his sex by the base and very slowly resumed his stroking.

"I was just thinkin' of the very first time your mouth tasted me proper."

Dwalin smirked, a jingling sound of his belt sounded as he unfastened it and let the garment fall to the floor. He slowly stalked around the bed, getting an eyeful of Bofur working himself.

"Were ya now.” 

“Aye, you’ve gotten much better since then,” Bofur replied with a cheeky wink. 

There was a time when Bofur wouldn’t dare try to goad Dwalin with quips such as this; Dwalin was a bit sensitive and self-conscious during their first several couplings. He was always much rougher than Bofur was used to, but together they worked a happy medium and now Dwalin was a pro at playing Bofur like a violin; capable of ripping all types of different sounds from him.

Dwalin scoffed and tossed his shirt at him, unaffected by the comment. Mostly. Although he was basically undressed now, he still had his unders on, but Bofur’s hand slowed when he saw that Dwalin wasn’t aroused. He wondered if maybe he had said something wrong. He was usually raring to go the moment they were alone.

But before he could voice anything, Dwalin stalked closer to the bed and crawled his way over and pressed his lips to Bofur’s until he forgot how to words. But there was something different in this kiss. It wasn’t raw, passionate, or hungry like it usually was. It was actually pretty sweet and tender. Bofur didn't know what to make of it or if there was anything to make out of it.

If he’d not been so accustomed to Dwalin’s behavior patterns up to this point, his heart would have been ecstatic at the intimate gesture. But he did know, so instead, it terrified him especially coupled with Dwalin’s concerning, lull activity. 

Bofur quickly put on his best charming smile and reached a hand down to help him along. “Had too much ale there?” he asked, even though that was highly unlikely. For one thing, Dwalin wasn’t blubbering about or struggling with his movements. And secondly, it was now well known between them that Dwalin was a horny drunk. 

Dwalin stilled Bofur’s hand with an unreadable expression on his face. Worry bubbled up to Bofur’s throat. His worst fears took residence throughout his mind: Dwalin knew. He had to. And if he didn’t, then he either fancied someone else or no longer wished to carry on their arrangement. It took all of Bofur’s willpower to remain indifferent amidst the concerns rebounding in his mind, but his erection had spited him in its slow retreat. 

“What’s wrong, lad?” Bofur asked. 

“I’d like to focus on you tonight, if I may.”

That was a first. Or… second, if one counted the day they first made their arrangement. 

“Not in the mood?” Bofur probed in hopes that Dwalin might open up and talk.

Dwalin only smiled and ran one of Bofur’s mustache loops between his fingers and thumbed his bottom lip open. Bofur’s tongue flicked out to taste him; he couldn’t help the impulse. He was rewarded with a cute chuckle that made his heart flip flop. 

“I just wanted to treat ya,” came the vague response. 

 _Well, this is it then._ Bofur thought, _tonight is the last night._ It was funny how on so many occasions he feared telling Dwalin how he felt because he knew that one of the more likely outcomes was that when he did tell him, that night (or the coupling before it) would have marked the end of their agreement. But even though he rued when that day would come, he still wasn’t quite prepared for the gaping hole it would leave him with once it finally arrived. 

But so be it. If tonight was their last, then he would take anything Dwalin was willing to give him — it was better than a “Goodbye!” for sure, but he’d no clue he was just one goodbye (although physical) from perpetual loneliness.  

With as much dignity as he could muster, Bofur smiled and feigned innocence. “I won’t say no to that! I’ll return the favor next time, aye?” And tucked both arms behind his head awaiting for Dwalin’s next move to commit everything beyond this point to memory.

Dwalin surprised him with another sensual kiss. Bofur's face was cupped in his hands, his lips being parted by a very skilled tongue. It was a goodbye kiss. But he would make it last however long he could. Bofur wrapped his arms around Dwalin's neck and sighed.

“Stay here with me tonight, Bofur,” Dwalin whispered in his ear as his hand traveled down Bofur’s happy trail. “I’ll take care of ya. And show ya how much I've improved since our first time.”

His cock strained for attention. “Then touch me! Please!” Bofur pleaded. 

During the course of being well tended to, Bofur couldn’t help but notice that Dwalin seemed distracted. He was very attentive to Bofur and his needs, yes, but something was off that kept Bofur from fully enjoying the moment even after being told those five lovely words of staying the night. Well after Dwalin finished Bofur off the two times he was graciously given and Bofur laid in his arms wishing for sleep, he couldn’t help but wonder what changed. Or if Dwalin knew… Usually, they stayed awake snuggled together well after lovemaking and talked about anything and everything. Tonight, however, they were both guilty of being tight-lipped. Every time Bofur glanced over at him, Dwalin's focus was in a place he couldn't reach. Even as Dwalin absentmindedly ran his hands along Bofur's skin, he wasn't in the room with him. Which was just fitting, wasn't it. 

Eventually, as it grew even darker outside, he couldn't take the silence anymore. 

“Are you awake?” Bofur whispered into the night. 

“Mhm, I like yer arms just fine, Bofur,” came the sleepy response followed with a kiss on his forehead and snore. 

Chuckling to himself, Bofur decided to save the conversation for another time and just enjoy the now; the sensation of being in Dwalin’s bed, in his arms, and imagining what it would be like to have this for always. 

* * * * *

He woke to a beam of light shining in his face and a hot weight pressed against his back. Bofur's first immediate thought was that someone came looking for Dwalin in the dead of night and caught them; shining their torch in his face to see who it was. With a gasp, Bofur jerked back but found that it was only the rays of the morning light causing him unnecessary distress. Looks like he and sleep finally found each other after all. 

He sighed in relief and then lamented on how nice it would feel not to have to sneak around like they have been. He wished he was free to share Dwalin’s bed, to publicly hold hands, to eat together, and add a courting braid in each other’s hair. A jab of longing pierced Bofur’s gut until he wondered if sneaking out without saying goodbye would be a good idea or not.  

Dwalin turned from behind him and moved so that his front replaced his back; Dwalin’s bearded chin nestled itself into Bofur’s shoulder and at the inviting poke against his rear, Bofur was reminded why staying in bed was a much better alternative to leaving. Based on Dwalin’s deep breathing and occasional snore, he was still fast asleep. But somebody else was up and saying hello. 

Bofur’s cock twitched in hopeful response and he smirked to himself. _Let’s see how long it’ll take him to wake_ , he said to himself. He carefully shifted his legs to give him better leverage and arched his bottom against the hard length pressed against him. Bofur listened for any changes in Dwalin’s breath while the large prick throbbed behind him. He continued on a few more times and couldn’t help but grin when Dwalin’s arm tightened around him protectively. Bofur rubbed a hand on himself as he continued rutting himself on Dwalin and let out a soft moan while he enjoyed the feeling.

The answering groan that shot in his ear made Bofur smile. His love was awake. 

Dwalin pressed a kiss to Bofur’s bare shoulder, his dark whiskers tickling the skin there and sending delightful tingles all throughout his body. 

“Good mornin’,” he whispered. 

“It is now,” Bofur agreed. 

“Let’s raise it to a great morning, aye?”

As Dwalin mounted him, Bofur eased onto his stomach and arched his back, anticipating the sweet burn of Dwalin’s length penetrating him from behind once Dwalin finished slicking up his prick with his bedside oil initially used for treating sore muscles, but now a wonderful addition to their bedsport.

It didn’t take long for the rhythm to get the out of control type of hard and fast and Bofur’s stones clenched, ready to unleash his load just as Dwalin’s hips locked against his ass and his spend was released with his trademark erotic howl that brought on Bofur’s own undoing.

As they calmed down, Bofur didn’t want to think about going through his day wondering when or if he’d get to see him again. He didn’t want to get dressed and walk back to his lonely room, hoping no one would witness that walk of shame through the massive halls. But it was going to happen anyway, just like it always did. The real question was whether or not this was the last time.

Dwalin rolled them over to their sides, still engaged inside of him and shuddered with a moan when he withdrew before circling his arms around him and holding him close, gently caressing his arm with his blunt fingertips. As much as he wished to relish in every touch, kiss, fuck, and embrace, Bofur couldn’t take the uncertainty anymore. 

“Dwalin?”

“Mm?”

Bofur prided himself on his quick mouth. Sure, he didn’t always say things that made sense, but he was rarely, if ever, speechless. But he struggled now on how to bring about the topic he so desperately wished didn’t need raising. 

Have you lost interest in me?

Have you found someone else?

Do you want to stop this?

I’ve fallen in love with you and I want you to be mine forever, it would give me great honor if you would court me.

Those were all the things he wanted to blurt out at once. But instead, all he could manage was, “I better go.”

Dwalin reluctantly let Bofur slip from his arms and frowned. “Wait, let me clean us up.”

“No, that’s all right. I need to get an early start on—” Bofur waved his hand in the air as he halfheartedly wiped himself clean with his socks before pulling on his trousers. “Work. A project.”

“What project? You all finished that.” Dwalin replied dubiously. 

Oh, right. That’s what the celebration last night was for. 

“It’s a personal project. Nothing related to—yeah.” Bofur smiled, hoping it was convincingly casual. Dwalin was not swayed. 

“What’s goin’ on with you? You’ve been acting strange.”

“ _I’ve_ been actin’ strange?” Bofur echoed incredulously, abruptly cursing himself for the accusing tone he used. Dwalin’s brows furrowed and he crossed his massive arms over his broad chest. 

“All right, laddie — whatever you have on yer mind, out with it.”

Bofur blushed, casually putting his clothes back on. “Nothing’s on my mind.”

“Right, and my beard is green and my stones are the size of acorns. What’s this sour mood of yers, Bofur? You’ve been acting odd lately and I’d like to know why.”

Bofur's defenses raised way up. If anyone were acting weird, it was Dwalin, not him! “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dwalin rolled his eyes. “Don’t pull my leg. I know when someone’s deflectin’ and I know when you hide something that ye don’t want to say. You've been actin' reserved fer weeks.”

Weeks...? Bofur didn't know what type of behavioral chance he was implying — as far as he was concerned, he kept his feelings very tight to the chest, thank you very much. But fine. If he wanted to bring this matter up, then Bofur had some questions for him that _he_ wanted answered. “Okay, if we're to open up with one another: what was goin’ on with ya last night?”

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

“You give me the signal to meet, you arrive flaccid and disinterested, and then ye aren’t there with me all night long.”

Dwalin squinted his eyes as he burst forward. “Disinterested? Not _there_? What in Mahal’s name are you talkin’ about, I wanted to focus on you! I was right there.” 

Now that the words were out in the open, all the bubbled frustrations and worries came rushing to the surface and they flew out of Bofur like a floodgate.

“You’ve never done that before and ye wouldn’t answer me straight when I asked if anything was wrong.” Dwalin’s deliberate silence spurred Bofur on, “I know when somethin’ is on _yer_ mind, too. So how about we swing the pendulum back the other way and tell me what’s on _your_ mind then, hm? It's obviously something concerning this—” he gestured between them "—and the fact that you cannot find it in ye to talk to me about it despite how close we've gotten tells me that it's serious."

It was just for a moment, but Bofur caught that guilty twinge. Dwalin sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Ah.”

“Ah, indeed,” Bofur repeated harshly. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Dwalin sighed long and nodded slowly in understanding knowing he was caught. Bofur waited with crushing anticipation for an explanation to come. 

“As I was making my way to my chambers, there was somethin’ I wanted to talk about. It’s… difficult for me to say. I intended to wait until after I was finished pleasing you, but... anyway, I’d rather not do this while we’re both riled up. Let's calm down a bit, wash up, have us some breakfast, and then we can talk.”

Gods… it was right there on the threshold. But Bofur was already so wound up and he couldn’t find the means to stop or leave well enough alone at the threat of losing the one person he would likely ever fall in love with. Was there some sign he missed that could have saved him to what led to this? He didn’t want to have that conversation. Not after they made love. Not after this argument. Not ever. But he had his pride, so he couldn’t stomach the thought of the dwarf he was in love with dumping him. Afraid to always, perpetually be the one that got left behind by friends, family, on the quest, and now with the only worthwhile love life he'd ever had, Bofur snapped. Dwalin needed to know. 

“I’m interested in someone,” Bofur blurted. 

Oh, how he wished he could take those words back. Not because they weren't true and directed at Dwalin specifically (because they were), but because Dwalin’s crestfallen face had sucked all the remaining air from the room. It was at this moment that Bofur realized that in his anxiety and fear, he had misconstrued the entire situation leading to this point. If Dwalin wanted to end their arrangement, he would have agreed just then. Maybe even give out a chuckle and say, “Well, it’s been fun!” But no, Dwalin’s expression was the complete opposite: the indisputable hurt in his eyes had divulged that he didn’t want this to end. 

And there was no way for Bofur to backpedal now with his deep a hole he dug for himself. 

“Who?” Dwalin demanded. 

You, ya daft dolt! “Why does it matter?” Bofur said, now fully dressed and wanting desperately to beat feet out of there and hide away forever. Confessing his feelings was not going at all as planned. Growling, Dwain leapt out of bed and stormed over stark nude to tower over Bofur. 

“Who is it.”

“Do you have something to say about it? This was just an arrangement, was it not? It’s not like we were exclusive.”

Deflated, Dwalin backed off. “Yer right. It wasn’t. Yer free to be with anybody you want, those were the rules.”

Gods, how did things escalate this far and get so out of hand? Sure, they were a couple of hotheaded dwarves, but nonetheless! Bofur hated those empty words; they weighed in his soul like lead in his stomach and he loathed himself for ruining everything. He should have just told him how he felt! If he had half the courage and cojones that Dwalin had, at least he would have known for sure where he stood if he would have just come clean and said he was interested in _him_ and not "someone". There was always a chance that they could have ended up together, but with how poorly Bofur handled things, that ship had probably sailed now.

“I need to go,” Bofur said weakly. Those couple steps to the front door stretched on and he felt like he was hovering over his body watching everything happen in slow motion. He cursed himself. 

“Bofur…” 

He turned and felt his heart drop down to his boots, as if it could sink any lower. Dwalin approached him slowly, looking down at the floor as he held out what (and who) Bofur was about to leave behind.

“Yer hat.”

Bofur accepted it with a nod and settled his headwear on his head. Most days it offered him immense comfort but it did nothing to placate the growing hurt spreading through his heart. For a moment he just stood there with his hand on the latch of Dwalin’s door unable to tear himsel away. Dwalin’s blue eyes lifted to his and Bofur willed him to say something. Anything. Anything at all to force him to stay. For Dwalin to convince him with some declaration on how he felt or yank him away from the door to keep him from leaving; any sign at all that he cared. "Don’t go!", "Please don’t leave!" Was that all too hard to say? 

But in the end, Dwalin didn’t say anything. So Bofur left.

 

* * *

 

In the coming hours of the day which passed by without number, Bofur wasn’t sure what got him from A to B. Sure, he was technically alive, but his heart was ripped from his chest and left in a handsome dwarrow’s room one floor below the royal wing. He dimly recalled finding his way back to his room and then off to the bathing areas. He hadn’t the stomach for socializing or breakfast, so he just went back to his room and cried. But by supper time with his stomach empty and his mind full, hunger had begun to win out this unintentional fasting and self-deprecating war he was waging on himself. 

Bofur managed to come and go unseen by anyone of importance on his way for sustenance. Supper was just on the tail-end, and no doubt the lads would be getting their drink and pipe on. For once in his life, Bofur sought to miss out on the festivity. He just wanted to be alone. Might as well get used to it now. He snagged a bottle of wine for good measure and then shuffled back to his chambers. 

The bottle was empty when he arrived and he cursed himself for not having the foresight to grab a few more when he noticed a note sticking out of the bottom of his door. It was too far in for him to grab it from out here.

Bofur gave a quick look around, saw no one, and went inside so he could read it privately in case it was a royal summons or something equally important. But it wasn’t. Just an unaddressed, simple envelope with an equally simple message. Well, simple enough.

_As soon as you read this meet me on the terrace that your team just completed. I need to talk to you. Please._

_— Dwalin_

Bofur groaned. Dwalin must have just left the note since he didn't notice it there before he left to finally eat. He wasn’t up to further making a fool of himself again. But as his mind’s eye recalled the hurt look in Dwalin’s eyes, he reasoned with himself that he owed Dwalin his audience. With all they’ve shared, he couldn’t cower in his room with his broken heart without hearing Dwalin out. And properly telling him how he felt.

Worst case scenario is nothing changes, their meetings are still at an end, but they part much more peacefully. 

“And on the bright side?” he murmured to himself as he debated his options. He couldn’t help but fear that his words and actions held irrevocable damage to their relationship. Would it be best to just let it go? Or should he push his luck and try again?

Second chances were often so hard to come by. And very rarely for matters of the heart. 

* * * * *

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to,” Bofur replied honestly. 

Dwalin smiled bashfully and stuck his thumbs in his belt. He was dressed in his captain garb and looked as handsome as ever. “Aye, well… I’m happy ya came. Do you know what I summoned ya for?” he cleared his throat nervously. 

Bofur awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and shook his head. “No, I can’t say that I do. Hmm… to pretend I kept my big mug shut this morning and restart our arrangement, I hope?” he guessed with a nervous laugh. It was a low blow, but hey. He couldn't help but try his luck. 

Dwalin chuckled and approached him slowly until there was a cozy distance between them. Bofur drew into him like a flower to sunlight already missing his scent and the feel of his skin.

“I was hopin’ for more than that.”

“More?” Bofur questioned with unbridled hope. He made sure to keep his yapping mouth shut this time, not wanting to risk his chances with him again. He worried his lip as he waited for him to continue. 

“When you left, after sayin’ what ye did, I felt as if my entire world just crumbled beneath me and swallowed me whole.” Dwalin raised a tentative hand up to brush over Bofur’s fringe. “The thought of no longer seeing ya again, touchin’ you, and being forced to think that someone else would be doing all the things we did; it about killed me. I tried to reason with myself that it was for the best, but when you walked out of that door, you took a part of me with you. This is yers,” he said and put something into Bofur’s hand.

His eyes widened and looked to Dwalin with burning cheeks. Never in a million years would he ever dream of having this sort of conversation with him. Only in Bofur's wildest fantasies did this scenario ever play out. But it was real. It made him wish they were back in the privacy of his room; to rewind the day before he messed everything up. He could have saved both of them such anguish if he hadn’t gotten so worked up with his emotions like the lovesick fool he was. But would Dwalin had ever confessed to him if he hadn't done that? Who knew. 

“But this is—”

“I know you fancy someone else, but I’ve fallen in love with you and I cannot let you go without ya knowin’ that. If there is a chance fer me, fer us, I would gladly duel them for the honor of being your suitor. What say you?”

He couldn’t believe his ears. Dwalin still had no clue that it was him that Bofur loved and yet here he was, giving him a courting bead, and offering to duel his competition the old fashioned way to gain Bofur’s favor as if all they shared wasn’t enough to sway his decision as it was. Bofur turned the beautifully crafted silver bead to catch the light and saw that Dwalin’s and his initials were carved in as well as an axe with a hat shaped like Bofur’s resting on top. This type of detailed work took months to make. It warmed his heart that Dwalin had been thinking of asking him to court for presumably as long as he was. Who would have thought?

“I say, it’s a good thing yer so fantastic in bed!” Bofur said eventually with a laugh. “But why haven’t ye said anything about how ya felt before? You never struck me as the type to keep such matters to yerself.”

“I didn’t know what you’d think. I wanted to finally tell you the other night but I was worried that yer heart was with another due to how oddly you’ve been actin’ of late, so I wasn’t certain of my chances. If I have yer approval, may I ask who I’ll be dueling?”

It was adorable how determined he looked. He truly would duel whoever Bofur named and he was half inclined to tease him with a mutual friend's name, but decided against it. 

“I’d rather you not beat yourself up over it, I don't fancy black eyes on my lover,” Bofur winked, hoping he’d put it together based on his jesting inflection. 

Dwalin’s brows furrowed in confusion at first but then it clicked. “Me? It’s me?”

Bofur smiled and nodded chipperly, his hat flaps bouncing along with his joy. “It was always you.” Dwalin was euphoric for a couple seconds before his eyes widened incredulously.

“Yer tellin’ me that all this time you were in love with me and ye never said a thing about it even this mornin’? Why, I oughta put ya over my knee fer about breakin’ my heart thinking you fancied someone else, ye fiend!” 

Bofur giggled and replied saucily, “Ye want to place me over yer knee, eh? Sounds kinky. Welp, nothin’ I can’t handle!”

"Why you!"

With a harrumph, Dwalin made a grab for him, but Bofur ducked out of the way, leading them into a heated chase down the halls swearing, playfully threatening, and laughing like the lovesick fools they were. Dwalin chased his lover right back to his room, past a bewildered Balin and fellow council member who shook their heads at their childish antics. 

“It’s about time…” Balin mumbled with a smirk, watching them disappear around a corner. 

But right before Bofur could open the latch for the door, Dwalin grabbed him and spun Bofur into it right out in the hall, holding his hands on either side of his face, leaning intimately close to his lips. 

“Dwalin,” Bofur blushed at the curious pairs of eyes that were turned towards them from around the corner. “They’ll see us.”

“So what if they do? I’ll kiss my partner wherever I want — do you intend to stop me?” Dwalin quirked a devilish eyebrow. 

“Never.”

“Good." Dwalin dove in to affectionately press his forehead against Bofur's and wrapped him in his arms. They both closed their eyes to relish in the new pleasant shift in their relationship. Dwalin broke away with a husky voice, "Yer mine now, no going back.” 

Bofur smiled a toothy grin. “Deal. By the by, I like this arrangement much more.” 

“Me too. Let’s make it official this time, aye?”

They sealed their new accord with a steamy kiss and didn’t leave bed until well after the following morning. And when they did wake up tangled in each other's arms, sore, sticky, satiated, and loved, neither of them had any means to fear that what they shared would ever end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, I had to give Bofur a happy ending because I love him! <333 I figure that with these two opposing personalities, they would eventually warm up to each other over the course of time that they spent together, especially so intimately, and become much more compatible, which is why Dwalin in particular might seem a bit OOC. It was an unusual pairing that I wasn't sure if I did justice on, but I enjoyed writing it all the same. On to the next! :)


	19. The Road Less Traveled (ThorinxReader) Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that his repressed feelings and actions had been successfully explained and put out in the open, Thorin’s desire and love for you are overflowing out of him like a dam and he’s ready to get busy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: NSFW.  
> (Part 5 of 5.)
> 
> Finally! The final installment of what was supposed to be 2-3 chapters long xD; thank you all for your patience! I hope this ending was worth the wait! I’m sorry it took so long… it’s been busy this past holiday season, but this was all I could think about writing. Enjoy your well-earned smut with your sexy king! :D I hope you enjoyed this mini story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please excuse any writing or grammar mistakes lingering behind that I missed.

“Make me yours.” 

Thorin’s cobalt blues disappeared behind large black pupils. His bearded jaw was set and his thin yet delectable lips were parted as the words calculated and registered. That fierce intensity in his handsome, regal face and the way it was intently focused on you had your body already loosening up for exactly what you needed.

You knew that look. 

Even without diverting your gaze down to where he was setting up camp in his trousers, you could tell he was fiercely aroused. But so were you. After both of your promises were fulfilled to one another, all of the waiting you did to get to this point was finally worth it but you couldn’t bear waiting any longer. Not with Thorin’s kisses still fresh upon your skin. Not with the reminiscing tingles left in the wake of his gentle touches after tending to your hair to put your courting braid in. And especially not with having him look at you like this. With such carnal desire and need. 

All throughout the day there was a dormant humming under your skin that flared to life the moment you saw him at the gates. And after your mouths found each others once you both were finally alone, the humming intensified as if to urge you to get closer and closer to your mate in the most visceral way you could. It must be the partial bond you shared, wanting to be made whole. Your soul needed to be marked by Thorin’s with a desperation you couldn’t quite understand, but you hoped that he would. From past remembrance, a part of you worried he would deny you this communion — again. But that look in his eyes as he visually ate your body while he crept closer told you otherwise.

As if your body was a puppet and Thorin its master, you laid down instinctively as Thorin crawled over your form, guiding you to lay on your back and he straddled your hips without sinking his full weight on top of you. Thorin still had on his crown (and other royal garments minus his furred cloak and overcoat), and with this living, breathing, beautiful, majestic, honest-to-goodness, _aroused_ king mounted on top of you had you wishing your dress was off so you could allow your legs to open wider to bid him a proper welcome so he could take what was rightfully his.

One of his large hands cupped your face and was already drawing you forward to him. You went willingly, a bubble of excitement fluttering from your heart. Thorin’s lips feathered over yours as he said, “Now, sweetling? Before your sustenance?” 

Was he kidding?

Your stomach was empty but your heart was full to bursting, not to mention the dam threatening to break between your legs. It was easy to ignore the gnawing pain in your tummy for now, because what you needed was far more important to you at this moment than mere “sustenance”. Food can go jump off a cliff. You’d eat later. 

“Yes, now! We’ll work up our appetites,” you smiled sensually, twirling some of this lush hair through your fingers. 

Thorin returned your smile with a soft laugh. “I was only making sure. I did have plans after supper that would require you to be at your full strength, but if you truly cannot wait that long…” he drifted seriously, either offering you one last out or purposely testing your patience to draw anticipation, you didn’t know. 

Your legs made a futile attempt at opening wider for him as a way to showcase you were ready now but they were restrained within the damnable narrow, form-fitting skirting of your dress so your arms wrapped around Thorin’s neck instead. You didn’t know what you had to do to convince him so you decided to just tell him your true thoughts. 

“I can’t, Thorin. I don’t want to wait any longer,” you whined, clutching at his clothing and writhing with need underneath him. “I want to be yours, fully yours. I need to feel your soul mark mine. Make me your wife.”

He closed his eyes briefly before dipping his hips into yours and you finally felt him. Hard, heavy and wanting even through his remaining layers of clothing and you wanted it. It wasn’t like you forgot what he looked like. _Or tasted,_ you reminded yourself with dark satisfaction. He was well-endowed for a dwarf for sure. You gasped when he pressed in further and he watched your expression with acute excitement.

But even as arousing and determined as he looked, his voice remained soft and loving, “Then you shall have me, Amrâlimê. All of me, forever more.”

Before you could voice your happiness, Thorin led your face towards him from the back of your head and kissed you with swift, building passion. The kiss was deliberate and controlled even as desperation built up between you while your hands tangled through his thick hair and his own traversed the paths of your feminine curves. You could feel his power building with each massage of his lips and your body heated up in response, readying you further for him.

Thorin’s groin had begun undulating imperceptibly against your own, and each time his hard length rubbed against your aching core, you moaned into his mouth — he was just as vocal in his appreciation. Feeling just how solid he was against your clit, even from under the fabric, had revved your stimulation to the point where you were already close to coming just from the friction of the dry-humping alone. 

Thorin could sense the change in your breathing and the way you clutched onto him even tighter as signs that you were dangerously nearing your peak. He tore his mouth away and watched your face.

“Close?” he asked huskily. 

Thorin didn’t stop moving. If anything, he increased the speed of his grind right where you needed him. You would have been embarrassed for being so quickly stimulated but he looked mighty eager to get you there and continued to roll his hips. You could only hope that he wouldn’t stop now; you would prefer to come while he was inside, but the glorious feel of his strong, hard body trapping you against the mattress with his impressive manhood grinding into you so deliciously, you didn’t wish to ward off the climax rapidly building.

You nodded raptly, your bottom half twitching against him to keep yourself stimulated before the burning coil winding its way in your pelvis could lose its spark. 

Your head fell back, soft pants and gasping sounds escaping your lips as heat concentrated and spread throughout your core. Thorin grunted and whispered words of praise as he continued to watch the expressions of pleasure you elicited. You stifled your cry of pleasure when you came and he was all smug, male satisfaction when you floated back down from your high. 

“I shall never tired of hearing _that_ lovely sound. I told you this dress would make us late,” he grinned wickedly. “Such a stunning garment. Shame I cannot simply rip it from your body…”

“I don’t care what you have to do, just help me get out of it,” you wriggled impatiently under him ready to get with the program. As nice as this was, you needed to feel him skin on skin. Your billowing movement caused Thorin to groan and slump forward due to your grinding against a very sensitive part of him. 

“So impatient,” he chided affectionately with a kiss to your nose, but complied to assist you out of your dress and then got to work on his own clothing once you were able to finish getting out of yours. He had to stand to remove his bottom wear. You were already well out of your dress at this time, so you laid back with your arms around your head and your legs crossed at the ankles and watched him admiringly.

Thorin was still, obviously, in magnificent shape since last you saw him. He didn’t appear to have any new scars littered across his person but you noticed another rune tattoo on his left pectoral, separate from the ones he got in honor and memory of his fallen kin. A bout of concern washed through you, as you hoped that there weren’t any additional family lives of his lost that he chose not to tell you about for some reason. 

“New tattoo?” you probed gently. Thorin paused and looked down at it and he gave you a soft smile. 

“Aye. This,” he traced his thumb over the foreign letters you couldn’t read, “is your name. I wanted it in my skin.” 

Thorin threw you a very saucy look at the sight of you so visibly flustered and speechless. As if he couldn’t endear you to him any more. It was obviously done well before you arrived since his chest hair had already grown in around it and the thought that Thorin always wanted you near to him had overflowed your heart with happiness. Even though you couldn’t read the letters, it was kind of arousing that Thorin had permanently etched your name into his skin. Wearing your mark on him, as it were, in the same manner that he would wear your bond on the inside.

You bit your lip to hide your satisfied grin and continued watching him undress.

“Uh-uh,”  you said as his hand reached towards his head to remove his crown. “You leave that on for a little while longer, my king.” 

Oh, damn him and that sexy smirk of his. 

“As you wish,” his deep voice conceded. The cheeky bastard even bowed to you and you threw a pillow at him with a laugh, which he easily caught and tossed to the side. He only took off his crown when it came time to remove the remaining top pieces of his clothing that required him to pull over his head. After he was fully nude, his eyes settled on your bare form sprawled out for him on the bed, his playful demeanor turned serious with yours following suit as his eyes bounced between several places on your body.

He stalked towards the bed, his erection very prominent and proud jutting out from his hips; bobbing as he walked. 

“Spread yourself for me,” he commanded deeply. 

As aroused and anxious as you were, it was still a little embarrassing exposing yourself in such an open display, even though his face had once upon a time been buried nose deep inside of you. 

You grew wet at the sight of Thorin gripping himself, stroking in long, slow strokes, thumbing a glistening tear around the blunt head of his sex. His face was taut with stifled pleasure and he made sure to make his displeasure of your hesitance known with a stern repeat of his last order.

“Y/N. Open your legs.” 

Blushing up to your ears, you very shyly obeyed by hiking up a knee and urged your legs apart, watching as his eyes settled on your pinkened mound between your legs. Your chest rose and fell quickly, wondering what possibilities Thorin was pondering in his head. He seemed to be wondering the same thing. Would he feast on you again? Torture you with his skilled fingers? Make you work yourself right in front of him while he watched?

He took his eyes off of your most sensitive place to meet your stare to rasp, “Do you know how often I dreamed of you like this? Spread so bare before me and free for my taking?”

“I really hope you aren’t planning to tease me…” you whined as he made a show of making a few solicitous strokes on himself. 

Thorin shook his head and climbed up onto the mattress, prowling his way over to you until he hovered right above your face. A curtain of his dark hair tickled your exposed skin during his ascent up your body and you brought your hands up to brush it back so you could properly see his face. You fisted his hair and gave a sharp tug.

He released a harsh dwarven curse through gritted teeth. “No teasing, I need to feel you.”

With total domination, his lips found yours, stroking wet on wet, sucking, licking. 

Thorin took complete charge this time around and all you could do was follow; trying to meet him kiss for kiss, bite for bite, touch for touch. Your legs opened wide to accept him further between them and he pressed his hot, hard length against your aching, silky folds. Thorin’s deep voice groaned in your mouth upon contact and you gave an answering mewl. You thrust your hips up to encourage him further, to finally take you.

But Thorin remained in complete control. He dipped his hand down and cupped your mound in his warm palm. “Behave yourself, hasty one.”

You chased after his lips that were already darkened from kissing. “I want you.”

“And I want you, but you are not ready yet and I will _not_ hurt you.”

“Yes, I am and you won’t hurt me! I can take it. Honest!”

Thorin silenced you by easing in a finger and you gasped at the unexpected entry. He pressed his calloused thumb against your clit and drew tight circles, causing it to swell and quiver as he worked his other thick digit in and out. Finally feeling _something_ penetrate you had given you a moment of reprieve in your sexual stupor. You tightened and pulsed around his finger and practically whimpered when he swiftly added another. It was a bit tighter this time; his fingers were so much larger than yours from when you tended to your needs and you bit back the added pressure of discomfort waiting to adjust as he slowly and gently scissored them.

Thorin slowed his actions when he felt the slight resistance and quirked a knowing eyebrow meaning anything between, “Still think you’re ready, huh?” or “I know what I’m doing.”

But as the pressure faded, your hips began reaching up to meet his hand, eager for more movement; faster, harder. Thorin picked up his pace and twisted his wrist to hook both fingers upward to caress the underside of your wall, hitting a sweet spot that had you seeing stars. You could hear the squelching sound of your wetness when Thorin increased his efforts and you knew his hand would be completely soaked afterward.

Thorin knelt over to pepper your neck and exposed  throat with love bites and sloppy open mouthed kisses. He was panting and breaking out into a sweat while his face flushed with excitement.

“You are so wet and hot around me,” he purred in your ear. “Just a little further, love.”

You laced your fingers to the crown of his head and tugged him towards your lips. He ravished you so fiercely, your cheeks and chin were pinkened from beard rash. You tore away wetly, “Thorin, please…” You wanted him inside. You wanted to adjust to him, not to his hand. You knew you sounded as desperate as you felt but didn’t care.

“Soon,” he promised with a chaste kiss. His darkened blues focused on your heaving chest. “I believe I owe these some well-deserved attention.” And dove his face down to lick a breast in his mouth. He moaned when he sucked in a perked nipple, his hand changing rhythm strikingly similar to what he would be doing to you with his own sex.

“I want you to come for me, like this,” he growled from your chest, locking eyes with yours. His thumb rejoined his other two fingers and attacked your clit again in sharp circles and flicks; the calloused skin on his thumb proved to be an excellent source of friction and your sensitive bundle of nerves gripped to him as he brought you to a feverish peak that your pleasure was rapidly surmounting.

“Thorin!” you moaned wantonly.

The pleasure quickly ascended, your eyes clenched shut and your head was thrown back into the pillows as Thorin dominated all of your prominent sexual sensations. He switched his mouth to the other breast, his heavy hair caressing over your skin when he passed. 

“Just a little further,” you thought you heard him say and you felt a slight prick as a third finger entered you. You hissed and stilled, and Thorin stopped immediately. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No, I’m okay,” you assured him. “Don’t stop, I’m so close.”

Keeping his eyes on your face, Thorin repositioned his fingers to give the third a better ease of entry and soon he was knuckle deep. He remained still to let you adjust, pressing kisses across your chest and lazily keeping your clit occupied to help loosen you further. You panted and mewled in response. Each touch of his beard had sent tingles throughout your body, further accommodating his ministrations.

“Ready?” he asked after placing a tender kiss to your lips. 

One nod for confirmation from you and Thorin resumed, murmuring words of praise and compliments. Slowly building up momentum. A delicious heat licked up your spine and you grew wetter as an inner coil tightened. Thorin leaned back to watch his handiwork and his brows furrowed as he panted.

He groaned at the sight and you watched his cock throb like it was begging to be picked for the next turn. “Mahal,” he groaned. “You are so _wet_.”

Your moaning grew higher in octave as you neared your next climax and Thorin dipped his face towards your ear, leaning close enough that you felt his lips against it. He whispered something in his foreign tongue to you and you had no idea what it meant, but the deep, encouraging, guttural way he growled it out had been your undoing.

The waves of heat uncurled and your hips undulated like the sea and Thorin let you ride it all the way through.

You barely had time to regain your senses when you felt Thorin’s palm on your cheek, thumbing your bottom lip and his tip nudged the entrance to your sex. His eyes searched yours anxiously, blown with raw arousal. “I need to be in you.”

Though you were fresh from your orgasm, a flood of new excitement washed over you. Thorin didn’t touch himself once the entire time he tended to you and you wanted him to feel pleasure, too.

“Need a moment, my love?” he grinned. 

Your lips quirked up in silent laughter as your breathily replied, “Now who’s impatient?”

Thorin had the sense to look sheepish but amptly rebounded with youthful charm, “I am.”

You giggled at his eagerness. Still in a state of blissful satisfaction from the earlier orgasms he gave you, euphoric at finally becoming one and bound to the other, and anxious to finally experience what sharing the full soul bond will feel like. “Then come and properly claim your very aroused wife, Your Hastiness.”

His eyes flashed at those words. “Do not taunt me, you wickedly tantalizing creature. I am barely holding on as it is.”

You wrapped your arms around him to nuzzle in close. “Me, too,” you breathed.

He smiled and you leaned up to kiss him once, twice, then the third melted into many. With your lips still locked together, Thorin guided himself between your folds, inhaling sharply through his nose when his blunt head slipped past your dripping heat. Everything became so much more vivid and you were acute to every sight, sound, taste, and smell. Although were very properly prepared for him, but taking his member still did pinch a bit. When he squeezed in another inch, you felt that sweet stretch and he broke away from your mouth with a gasp that led to a moan.

The humming sensation sizzling through your blood exploded to life under your skin. Thorin watched your face attentively, a cross between awe and reverence at feeling your supple, molten embrace around his sex. You could feel him twitching and throbbing inside of you as if it was doing pushups. 

“Does it hurt?” 

It still pinched a little, sure, but you were addicted to this strange, foreign buzz in your soul that seemed to grow stronger the deeper he went. You had to get closer. You needed Thorin closer. Prepared to take him in fully, you wrapped your ankles around his perfect, tight ass and thrust your hips up. Breaking past the resistance and swallowing him whole, both of you cried out when he was fully bottomed out.

“Oh, gods, _Y/N_ ,” he shuddered into your neck.

“Oh my god, what is that?” you asked. The long awaited joining felt like he was entering your entire body, sending you off to a new shimmering height of pleasure that replaced any trace of prior discomfort.

Thorin gave the first thrust, pulling out halfway and easing back. 

“The bond.” The second thrust was far more powerful than the first and when he built up a rhythm, he showed no signs of stopping. “Do you feel it, Ghivashel?”

Your back arched to take him in a deeper angle, relishing the way he stretched you out and stuffed you full. It was overwhelming. “Yes!” you cried. Your hands sought out Thorin’s toned back and shoulders before finding his arms; traveling down the powerful, plump muscle until you reached his hands supporting his weight by your sides. He linked your fingers together and pinned your arms next to your head and he braced himself above you to freely swing his hips. His chest crushed yours, the scratchy feel of his chest hair rasping against your skin every time he dipped down to steal a kiss. He massaged your lips apart with his tongue, humming at your taste.

The entire world lay forgotten. There was no Erebor. No in-laws or supper waiting for you. In this moment, it was just you, your husband, and this bed. You’d had experience with lovers in the past, but nothing could have compared you to what this could feel like with Thorin.

“I love you,” he whispered.

* * * * *

 _Valinor. This must be what Valinor was like,_ Thorin thought dazedly. The penetration was so warm and inviting, as if Y/N’s perfect, amazing body was made just for him, and he was a moaning, groaning mess being encased in such a beautiful, velvety hot, firm embrace of his wife. Mahal… his _wife_! The wedding was simply all but a formality at this point. They were married now. Looking down at his Y/N, Thorin worried that he was being too rough on her, pounding away like an animal; she was a tight squeeze for him even after the preparations with his fingers, but Y/N took everything he was giving him and enjoying every second.

“I love you,” she returned with a high pitched moan that had her arching her back and exposing her breasts to him. And how could he possibly refuse such a tempting invitation? 

As he suckled on her, the bond he felt for Y/N rushed through his skin like liquid fire, commanding his hips to drive them both to completion to leave his imprint on her and feel that sweet release of flurries marking her imprint on him.

This powerful sexual drive was so new to him. He felt like a beast with these raw, lustful, all-consuming thoughts but his body was in full control with his mind taking a back seat. Deeper. He had to get deeper and fill her to the brim with his essence. Thorin pulled away momentarily and flipped her around on her stomach. Y/N promptly arranged herself on all fours, dipping her front down while raising her bonnie arse for him. He hummed in approval, giving it a sharp smack before aligning himself behind her.

Thorin would never tire of the feeling of slipping inside of her, and he preened with male satisfaction at Y/N’s answering cry when he pushed inside from tip to base. He gripped her hips and took her harder, faster. Thorin wanted to be gentle, but he was too overcome with pleasure and the need to establish the bond between them to be a gentleman about it. 

He grunted each time his tip rubbed passed that special place inside of her that brought out wonderul, erotic wanton shouts and he could feel her grow even hotter around him. He could tell Y/N was getting close and his name was a chant upon her lips. _That’s right,_ he thought darkly to her. _You’re mine!_  

Thorin’s gaze was transfixed on the way her arse moved each time his hips slammed home to her inviting, wet sheath. He rounded over the curve of her waist to the swell of her hips to knead the soft, malleable flesh of her bum and give it a firm smack. She arched in response, tossing her head back to release a feminine gasp. Mahal, he felt her tighten around him so deliciously, he had to do it again. 

A possessive hold surged through a primal section of his brain as he watched himself retreat and enter his love. Claiming her as his, ripping such arousing sounds from their lips. It was incredibly erotic for him to watch. Almost too much, he felt close to bursting.

Even he was surprised at how deeply his moans had gotten. He wasn’t even aware he was capable of making such sounds. But much like he has learned from being in Y/N’s company, she never ceased to surprise him, or cause him to surprise himself. 

Being inside Y/N in this way was like nothing Thorin has ever felt before and he feared that now that he knew what _this_ could feel like, he never wanted them to leave this bed. They haven’t even finished and he knew he would want more. He would take her again and again. To a place for just the two of them could connect. 

Y/N’s release snuck up on both of them quite suddenly. Thorin was pleased, wanting her to reach hers first but realized almost too late to dip down his hand to her front to stimulate her swollen pearl to add on to her pleasure. But he got there just after the first brazen scream. 

He grunted, his own moan echoing off of the walls when he felt her sex squeezing and gushing around his hardness like a waterfall.

Y/N was speaking in an incomprehensible mix of praise and moans and Thorin, still pounding her through her ecstasy, eyed the sight of his cock coated with her release. When he retreated it was shiny and slick; the surrounding hair of his cock completely soaked with her juices. Each time the skin of his hips slapped back into her arse, he was satisfied at getting into her as deeply as he physically could. But what was more amazing was the rush of her bond coursing through him at each convulsion of her muscles juicing him while she came. 

_Mine. All mine._

Gasping, panting, sheened with sweat, Y/N turned her head to look at him from over her shoulder, her expression was that of such unconditional love and desire that Thorin was humbled to tears at his fortune. He had the love of his life with him in body and soul, his kin and kingdom by his side, and the mountain of his forefathers reclaimed in his rule. With Y/N’s bond fresh in his blood, their ability at being soul-close, and her heart beating in his chest, Thorin couldn’t fathom how life could possibly get any better than this.

* * * * *

Thorin was magnificent. His wide chest and powerful shoulders seized up; his strong arms seemed to be carved out of marble, his hair-covered abdominals ribbed as his hips punched into you. He was a god. Still in the aftermath of your orgasm, you continued milking his sex, coating him in your liquid heat and pushing him closer and closer to his finish he was desperately trying to chase. Thorin’s hands were gripped tightly on your hips, basically pushing and pulling you along his cock with little to no effort from you.

But you pushed back into him to keep up with the borderline brutal pace he took on, and Thorin’s head dipped back in a groan. You couldn’t fathom how someone this beautiful could ever fall in love with someone like you — and look how far you both came from when you started! To think that when Gandalf appointed you as Thorin’s navigator that you would later be consummating your love for one another in his dwarven kingdom. 

Thorin’s clenched eyes opened and landed on yours. For a moment, you knew nothing but the raw passion being shared in his expression as he took you with a ferocity that was very becoming of the warrior that he was. There were tears in his eyes, but you knew where they were coming from, as you were experiencing it yourself. You were overwhelmed with the soul mark, with being this close to him, and the journey that brought you both to this point. Abruptly, he pulled out, flipped you over on your back with impeccable strength and guided himself back inside without losing rhythm. 

Thorin wanted to see you fully when he established his soul bond on your body. You reached out your hands to rest on his bulging biceps, marveling at his ripples of carved muscle as he lifted your bottom half up to meet his rapid thrusts with wet slaps.

Your heat was tight and wet, gripping his sex from tip to base in greedy strokes. Thorin’s breath changed from deep heaving breaths to quick gasps; he was painfully hard, and you know he only needed a couple more strokes before his climax overtook him. 

And when he orgasmed, his thick, maned head fell back and his baritone voice filled the room with a sharp bark of your name. His neck corded up on both sides while his hips continued to slam wetly into you, stuttering in movement and pumping all he had in him. Thorin’s cock swelled and kicked inside of you, connecting the bond to bring you both in full circle in its mystical energy. 

Thorin filled you up. Inside your body and in your soul. You felt his hot release being massaged into you in tandem with his thrusting until it seeped down your thighs and the bond that came with it was close to indescribable. Your hearts and souls were one in the same; racing, beating, loving. United.

Thorin’s strength left him in a rush. He didn’t so much as slip out of you before he collapsed. He meant to aim for the spot next to you, but landed on top instead with his face buried into your neck.

He breathed in and out in shuddering breaths as he calmed down. Your hands traversed up his sweaty, muscled back and traced patterns along his hot skin before caressing his lush hair. 

Thorin moaned weakly, spent and exhausted, at your tender touches and with a satiated grin you garnished the side of his head with adoring kisses. He tasted of sweat and his natural scent was strong in your nose, and it all felt like home. Thorin was officially your husband. You both laid there catching your breath for a few moments when Thorin’s heavy weight started become more crushing than comfortable. You gave him a subtle nudge to communicate your wishes to adjust.

He grumbled in response and rolled over, pulling you with him to nestle into his side. His half-lidded eyes rested on yours and he ushered you in by the chin where he kissed you soundly and languidly before breaking away with a pop, flopping his head on your pillow and closing his eyes. 

Out. 

You didn’t bother biting back your pleased chuckle of glee at the look of total bliss on Thorin’s face. He looked so at ease and so peaceful, you knew he’d fall asleep if you didn’t do something about it. You wanted to let him rest for a while, but then you suddenly remembered that there were people waiting for both of you. But you didn’t want to leave this room and almost regretted not waiting until Thorin’s plan for the night just so you didn’t have to leave to fulfill any obligations. Almost. 

Everything you did was totally worth it. 

You took one of Thorin’s twin braids in your hand and twirled the bead in your fingers before tickling his nose with the small tuft of hair sticking out from the end of it. “We should probably get going now before someone sends a search party.” He wrinkled his nose in result.

“Mm.”

“Don’t you want some food?”

“Mm.”

“Yes? No? We’re going to have to eat sometime. And people are waiting for us.”

“Mm.”

You snickered and Thorin cracked a hint of a smirk. You straddled his leg and rested your chin on his chest to watch his ridiculously gorgeous face. Your hands played through his chest hair, still damp with sweat from your earlier efforts. Your fingertips ventured across to where your name was inked into his skin and stroked it lovingly. Thorin sighed deeply, content. 

“What, has making love robbed you of speech?”

“Mmm...”

You giggled the type of laugh befitting a five year old. “I’m happy it brought out this affect in you.”

He cracked a fatigued eye open. “I, on the other hand, apparently have need to increase my efforts. My wife should be properly sated and incapable of speech when I am through with her.” He brought your hand to his mouth to kiss it, and kept it clasped in his on his chest. 

“There’s always later…” you drawled into his neck. 

“There is always now.” 

Warm hands encased your bottom and gave a hearty squeeze. His blue eyes opened and twinkled in the golden light in the room. “By the by, you have the most magnificent arse in all of Middle Earth.”

“How do you know? Have you been comparing mine to someone else's?” you teased. 

That earned you a swift slap. “Of course not. How could anyone else possibly compare to such perfection?”

“You have a pretty nice bum, yourself,” you giggled, kissing his nose. “Not that I was able to get a proper look.”

“It is not nearly as nice as yours, I assure you.”

“Debatable. Food?”

Thorin pulled you close, hands slipping up into your hair from your neck. “Are you finally in need of your sustenance?” 

“I’d rather lay here a little longer, but the others are probably waiting for us.” 

Thorin tightened his hold. “Let us stay like this for a while longer then; take a quick reprieve before we go.” 

You both fell into a peaceful silence in each other’s arms, relishing in the afterglow of being explicitly and irrevocably intimate for the first time. Thorin busied his hand up and down your cooling form, occasionally squeezing in a place he deemed needy of his attention before he reluctantly drew you both up to ready yourselves for socializing. 

All the while you both smiled like loons and stole kisses whenever you could.

 

* * *

 

“It’s about darn time! We’ve been waitin’ over an hour for you both to come back up for air. Cor!” Dwalin barked. “It was a pain in the backside keeping the council at bay.”

“Yeah, can we eat now?” Nori added sullenly.

Panic flooded through you as you took a good look around the dining hall. Did… did everyone know?! 

Though Dwalin sounded peeved, he was giving Thorin a very peculiar chest-puffed look that was all much too understanding (and amused) for your liking. But the rest of Thorin’s company and kin seemed eager to sit and eat.

The room was loud with lively conversation from one end to another, some seated, some lingering the tables of food and ale; all much too engaged in their own worlds to have noticed that Thorin and you entered the room. There was food in a huge buffet table filled from table to ceiling with an abundance of various foods. Among them were huge casks of ales and meads. There were many mugs in hand, but no plates filled with food yet. 

“Why didn’t you all get food?” you nervously asked Thorin’s gathering of friends. 

“It’s rude to eat before the king when he is hosting the feast,” Balin informed you politely. His eyes danced between you both and he gave Thorin a nod and wink.

You exchanged looks with Thorin to see if he shared your concerns. You were feeling the heat of embarrassment flood your cheeks at having to make an entire dining hall filled with dwarves and important political figures of Thorin’s council wait for you and Thorin to arrive while you both were getting it on in your room, meanwhile Thorin was cool as a cucumber. A relaxed, uncaring air about him that came as privilege for his status, you supposed. You, on the other hand, wanted to make a good first impression. Showing up late to your own feast in a room full of hungry dwarves was not exactly rolling out the welcome mat.

Thorin, with you in hand, Dis, Fili, and Kili walked towards the royal table at the head of the room and the conversations quieted down to a dull roar. 

Mugs, goblets and tankards were already on the table and you took comfort in Thorin’s presence beside you and Fili on the other. Everyone lifted their mugs following Thorin’s lead.

He lifted his hand in the air to silence the remaining discussions before announcing his brief speech to the room. He introduced you as his consort but didn’t mention your betrothal since that was to be discussed in council first, made honorable mentions on those who had put in extraordinary efforts in Erebor’s restoration, areas he will be addressing next, before ending with, “Thank you to everyone for your great work in restoring our illustrious kingdom,” he gave your hand a squeeze, “there is very exciting news on the horizon that I am anxious to share with my council. But for now, enjoy the feast, my friends!”

As soon as he was done and everyone gulped down their drinks, Fili and Kili all but flew over to the food table as others rushed towards it. You could just feel the disapproving stares being directed at you from all the hungry mouths in the room and you didn’t dare look up to meet anyone’s eye. What a great way to leave a lasting impression on your soon to be subjects! But when Thorin turned to you and smiled that special smile reserved for you, you were reminded again that what you did was well worth any temporary ire. 

“I need to speak to Balin and some of my staff. It may take a while, but I will have one of my nephews retrieve your plate. I will try not to be too long, sweetling.” 

You nodded and after a quick kiss to your knuckles, you watched him leave with a secret grin, your eyes traveling down his body, loving the way he walked — you noticed just the faintest of limps (probably from your exertion earlier), but Thorin carried himself well enough that you doubted anyone else but you would notice. Damn. He really did have a nice butt. If only he wasn’t wearing that blasted regal cloak! Your eyes circled around the room to take the expanse of it all in and you did a double take when your sight landed on Dis, seated to Thorin’s left and distracted yourself with a goblet in front of you.

Dis threw you a knowing smirk accompanied with a wag of her eyebrows and you wanted to disappear in your chair. You smiled bashfully and sunk in your seat as your mind reeled you back to what you did just under half an hour ago. 

“Fetching hair, ya got there, dear,” she hinted. 

Wide-eyed in horror, your head whipped over and a hand shot up to pat around, wondering if there was any evidence to what Thorin and you did before dinner. He _did_ fix your hair before you left, though, but what if there was something else that gave it away? 

“Stop fussing, it looks fine! Just a wee bit different from the look I did for you before Thorin barged in,” she smirked. You paused and let her implication sink in. She knew. Of course she did.

“Oh, Dis!” you blushed behind your hands and laughed. She chuckled jovially and patted your shoulder affectionately. 

“No need to be embarrassed, lass! I figured that’s what kept you, it’s a completely natural thing.”

“Why, what were they doing?” Kili joined in. His plate was nothing short of a mountain all its own. Everything piled on without care and you weren’t sure how or where he intended to start eating with that hodgepodge of a mess. 

“My hair!” you squeaked. 

Fili followed in next and took his spot beside you, his plate just as high with food but much more organized. The one he made for you was done in even more care. You noticed some of your favorites upon it and knew the supply was Thorin’s doing. 

“What about it? I think it looks really nice,” he commented offhand, sliding your plate over. 

Kili shoveled in his food by the handful and frowned over the table. Munching away on his spoils he asked, “How could it possibly take you that long for a look that simple?”

Dis didn’t comment, lifting her own goblet to her lips. Drinking slowly. 

Fili shrugged, focusing on his food. “She is a lady, Kili. She’s got longer hair than ours. And besides, that ‘simple’ look is a courting braid, if you haven’t noticed.”

“The wine is especially sweet, isn’t it?” you butted in, hoping to derail the topic.

“But Mother tended to her hair, didn’t she? That was practically hours ago—oh. _Oh_.” You risked a peek over at Kili who was busy piecing the facts together.

“‘Oh’, is right! I hope he did us Durins proud, Aunt Y/N!” Fili jostled you affectionately. Dis was bellowing out in laughter behind her hand, Kili was flushed scarlet, looking you over wonderingly from the corner of his eye. And you were suddenly very interested in your food. 

You hid your face under your hand. “Does everyone know?” you asked.

“Not everyone,” Fili assured. “Dwalin and I made the mistake of thinking Ma was still with you, and when we ventured to your chambers, we happened to catch the reason for your tardiness.” 

Oh, look. More wine. 

“Gods… well, thanks for stalling,” you chuckled, completely embarrassed. “I didn’t expect these walls to be so thin. That’s very disconcerting.” 

“Don’t worry, dear,” Dis interjected casually. “Thorin’s chambers are very well-padded. You can be as loud as—”

Kili pushed his plate away, “All right, I lost my appetite.”

“Me, too!” you added. This wasn’t exactly a conversation you wanted to have with Thorin’s family, let alone when he wasn’t even around. You didn’t want to make any other mistakes should any ask about his “vigor” like you did back at the inn. 

“More ale?” Kili offered. But then as lively music started picking up, “Or perhaps a dance?”

“She got plenty ‘dancing’ out in her chambers, I’m sure,” Dwalin guffawed from behind. Gods, they were relentless!

“More ale,” you decided, extending your goblet to Kili who was all too ready to pour.

 

* * *

 

“Take me,” Thorin moaned against your lips. You pushed him into his furred bed and mounted him, guiding his erect sex into your waiting core, sinking down on him with a shrill mewl of delight. His hands caressed up your thighs and rounded up to the swell of your hips and locked on. 

As soon as you finished eating, your thoughts drifted to the groundbreaking sex you both had earlier and it hyped you up for round two. Thorin joined you about half an hour later and the table finally got off the topic from your sex life to asking how you met Thorin. He was more than happy to take over the conversation from there and somehow you felt more relaxed; he was much smoother with words than you were and derailed any topics he felt should remain private from any nosy gossip mongers. You both shared a dance, met the councilmen, who definitely needed some warming up to, and mingled with the company before retreating back to the royal table to enjoy more food and to watch everyone enjoy themselves. 

Your hand started innocently enough on Thorin’s thigh and crept incrementally higher and higher until it found the hardening bulge you were searching for. Thorin stiffened and grabbed your wrist. Shooting you a plea from the side of his eye. 

When he realized that you were not to be detained, he gritted through the remaining conversations he had left, downed his mug of ale, swiftly excused the two of you, and practically carried you all the way back to his chambers. 

“You naughty little fiend,” he whispered into your ear after shoving you against a wall next to his door. “You ought to be punished for attempting to sully the king in a public setting.”

“Your _queen_ ought to punish you for making her wait so long to take her to bed.”

“That is all that I could think about, taking you to my bed,” he admitted huskily, sealing his lips on yours and leading you both bereft of clothing and tangled in Thorin's massive bed. 

Even while submitting himself to you while you rode him like a pony, Thorin remained very much commandeering. It seemed more so that he was the one lifting you up and down his hard length than you taking from him; he was the one fucking _you_ , not the other way around. 

But there were times when he eased back and let you do all the work, grunting and gasping dirty praises, throwing his head back, gripping the sheets in an iron grip as you milked him before he couldn’t take it any longer and rolled you over to take you good and proper. You made love three times that night and at that point you were sore, exhausted, and sticky. But very loved and satiated. Thorin was drained but quite pleased with himself, especially as he eyed his release painted in and on your body. He had remarked, in a number of naughty ways, how turned on that made him seeing you like that — covered in him.

With each coupling, your bonds surged inside of you, bringing you closer than anything else ever could. You slumped into the furs, short of breath and movement and tingling all over. 

“Finally,” he panted heavily as if he were out of shape. “My One… incapable… of speech…” He kissed you languidly but briefly, leaning his forehead down on yours trying desperately to steady his breathing. “Are you sated?” It wasn’t a competition, but it was still cute that Thorin made it his goal to bring you to this numb, quivering, panting mess that you were. It made him feel like he did his job at serving his queen well. And boy did he!

“Hn.”

Thorin actually giggled. Which would have made you burst into a fit of laughter if you weren’t as wiped as you were. 

“Good,” he exhaled with a plop. "You have far exhausted me, I am afraid I haven't a drop of seed left."

You were dozing in and out of consciousness and at some point you recalled Thorin had cleaned you both up with a damp rag before tucking you against him under clean furs he kept nearby. "Love you," you mumbled.

"I love you, my treasure," he whispered. You both fell asleep soon after that, but you woke up sometime in the very early dawn to a soft sound. As you stirred further, you realized Thorin was humming to you and stroking your hair. 

“Is this a dream?” you mumbled sleepily. 

“Hmm?”

You kicked your chin up to look at him smiling down at you. His eyes were sparkling and clear, indicating he must have been awake much longer than you. 

You snuggled into his warm chest, taking comfort in the security he offered and how solid and real this was, but you still had to check. “I was just wondering if this was a dream.” You felt him kiss the top of your head. 

“I have been wondering the very same since I woke with you in my bed, however, I am happily convinced otherwise. But if you require some… persuasion, I will strive to satisfy.” He rolled you both over and mounted you, pressing his morning hardness shamelessly into your core and peppering sweet kisses against your temple, your nose, cheeks, and mouth. 

You smirked, your body slowly coming to life and warming your blood. Thorin grinned widely, the happiness exuding out of his being making him look decades younger. The light was faint in the room, just a few oil lamps hanging upon the walls. You fathomed he must look jaw dropping in the morning light if it were streaming in the window, but then you noticed some markings along his neck that traveled down to his arms and chest. Purple, disfigured shapes the size of...

“Oh my god! Did-did I do these?!” Your fingers gingerly traced over the bruises and hickeys littered over his skin.

Thorin touched a few sensitive spots on you that had you hissing and wincing when pressure was applied. You apparently weren’t any better off either. “I may need to go easy on you next time… we both got carried away last night,” he murmured under his breath. 

“Don’t you dare! Oh well, at least everyone will know of your prowess and drive. I couldn’t discredit you now even if I wanted to, the proof is… well, everywhere.” You gestured between you and all the lovemarks you shared, thinking back to a time when that jest would have gotten you a harsh scolding. 

Thorin laughed deeply and you joined him, happy that he seemed to remember what you hinted at. The turning point in both of your lives and what occurred back at Beth and Bertie’s inn would forever be your fondest of memories. You wondered if the two of you should ever plan a trip back there, just for old time’s sake to see how the couple was doing. Would you even have time in your busy new life for such a leisurely trip? You couldn't help but chuckle as you thought back on everything that transpired in just a couple days.

“What are you thinking about?” Thorin asked.

"The first time I saw you naked getting into that bathtub."

"Mahal, woman," he chuckled back.

"Yeah, that's pretty much what you said when it happened! We were both so shocked, all we could do was stare."

He seemed to think about something and broke out into a small grin. "Do you remember when Bertie would pull me aside for evening smokes?"

"You mean his marriage counseling in disguise?" Thorin grimaced just from the memory and shook his head, "Aye... that. Did you know that he knew we were in love even back then?"

"That doesn't surprise me. He and Beth are practically love experts."

Thorin dipped his persistent hard-on against you, sinking his weight down to rest on his elbows, "I believe we can say that we, too, are expects in matters of love, no?" You kissed his bearded chin, leaned back on the pillow and sighed. You recalled the very pickle you found yourselves in at the start of your lie just to keep you both in that inn. 

"We sure didn't start out that way..." You drifted back to a time that seemed ages ago, back to a different you and a _very_ different Thorin. He tilted your chin so you would look at him. 

"I am thankful for everything that transpired. If not for you and your uncanny ability to be so unquestionably yourself, we would not have what we have now. Had you not seduced me, I would be denying my heart to you even to this day. Or worse... regretting never acting upon them. Before my quest, I was raised to question my desires and longings since I was a boy. I was told not to trust them and to treat them with care. But then you came along and everything instilled into me became an unbearable turmoil of questions and need. I still remember when you watched and visited me at my anvil in the village, how you showed me kindness even though I was wary. When you left me snacks."

You blushed, not knowing why. "You remember that? How'd you know it was me?" 

"I had my suspicions, but I knew not at first. But after Gandalf appointed us as traveling companions, I recognized the wrapping cloth; you used it for the snacks you brought along for the road."

You were touched he remembered that at all. You had almost completely forgotten about it.  Thorin continued, "The point is, I would have denied myself a life with love in it, if you hadn't claimed me for your husband in front of complete strangers and forced me into the most uncomfortable situation I have ever been in. For that, I must thank you. I intend to return the favor for the rest of my days." Thorin ended that with a warm kiss to your lips that had you melting into the mattress into a matter of goo. 

"Why are you crying?" he asked, thumbing some of them away. Oh, were you? You blinked quickly and wiped the rest away. 

"I don't know... reminiscing the old memories, being married. That really happened, huh?"

"And thank Mahal for that!" Thorin pulled you to him by the back of your neck and your arms wrapped tightly around him to hold him close. You buried your face in his hair, inhaling the herb scent of his soap and natural musk, feeling the warmth of his bare back under the pads of your fingers. Yes. Everything really did happen. You both were actually married and bonded forever. He was a king and you were his queen. After holding each other close, the morning arrived without you. 

You pulled away with happy grins. "So... shall I demonstrate some of Bertie's wide bed sport tactics?" Thorin questioned. He gasped and groaned when you reached down to grab a hold of him. 

"If they're anything like the moves you've been doing, I think I'm very interested to know—"

All of a sudden Thorin's chamber doors burst open as two guards filed in. You let out a startled "eep!" and Thorin shielded your naked chest from view by covering you with his own with murder in his eyes. 

"Your Highness! You have a—uh... oh my. O-our apologies!" One of the guards had the sense to spin around (after a polite bow) and pull along the younger of the two who could only gape and stutter. 

"We'll make sure no one bothers ye, Your Highness! So sorry!" 

The door slammed shut. 

Thorin sighed long and hard. "I forgot to cancel my morning wakeup call—"

"See? I'm not the only one who enters without knocking!" you quipped from underneath him. Thorin slowly turned his head from the door to your face and deadpanned. His arms lifted upward as his face lowered. You thought he was coming down to kiss you, but instead, he had grabbed one of the pillows and smacked you with it. 

"Ow, hey!" 

After a heated battle of pillow fighting ensued, with you declared as the winner the moment you got Thorin on his back with you straddling his thighs, no other words were spoken for some time. And much later in your years together, well after your wedding, crowning and rule, Thorin and you finally planned that trip back to the old inn to pay homage to where everything started. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the love, kudos, comments and support for this mini story! I didn't expect it to grow into what could have been its own separate work, but oh well! Thanks for reading! <333


	20. Mesmerized (FilixReader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader has been Gandalf's wizard apprentice for 500 years and her magic is similar to a mesmer (Guild Wars 2). After the BOTFA and everyone lives, Fili wants to court and hopefully marry her since he's been waiting the whole journey to finally do so. Unfortunately, the reader is not fully educated in dwarvish courting customs and so is blissfully unaware of his intentions. Complete with a happy ending which contains… well, ‘happy endings’. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Warnings: NSFW 
> 
> Request from the awesome OccultDragon18 (whose comments bring me lyfe every time I see them and who needs to get crankin' on writing stuff so I can read them!) I'm sorry it took so long for me to write this. I hope you like it and the “punny” title I thought for oneshot! I think we all need a little more Fili in our lives. He’s such a sweetie <3 
> 
> From now on, just naturally expect my chapters to be behemoths. They all have minds of their own and end up taking over, anyway. Enjoy over 13,000+ words of Fili love and excuse any errors I may have missed in editing!

“Do you think she will like this?” Fili asked. 

Kili dutifully looked over the stunning necklace Fili spent the last four months perfecting. He personally could find no fault in it and was both stunned and proud that such a work of art came from his brother. Fili’s aptitude of smithing was always weaponry, but this piece of jewelry could easily pass as the result of an expert jeweler.

A thick braided silver chain took up the back piece and as it moved towards the front, it divided into three parts that hung at the front at a dipping ‘V’ were expertly crafted with intricate wire art and bezels that housed the various gemstones. As Kili looked closely at it, he was astounded at the amount of detail. The necklace as a finished piece was quite large and only fit to wear while in a gown, due to the extravagance of the design. Kili knew it was meant as a wedding piece; his brother was going to bypass the courting request after bonding with his love interest both in battle and throughout the journey, and he was finally ready to spill his heart and propose. Looking to Fili, his brother’s blue eyes were narrowed and focused, searching for any flaw or imperfection to his latest craft even when there was none to be found. His tired face was lined with sweat and his hair was all in disarray from constantly pushing it out of his face, not to mention Fili’s usually pristine braided mustache lacked the proper tending to and care since he resumed this project. 

Poor Fili had worked tirelessly for months between juggling his duties in the council and court meetings with his personal project that nobody except for Kili knew anything about. But now that this was finished, Fili appeared rightfully accomplished and proud. 

In all honesty, Kili shared in his nervousness (and excitement) and wanted nothing but his brother’s happiness.  

This past year and a half, as his schedule allowed, Fili had slaved away forging courting gifts for Y/N, Gandalf’s apprentice that joined them in retaking Erebor. She was unlike anything they’d ever known before and her magical powers of deception alone came as a huge asset to the team. Her courage and confidence in her skills was unparallelled and she quickly gained the respect of everyone in the group. Particularly so when she was able to clone herself as a distraction to Azog while Thorin landed the killing blow to finally end his longtime nemesis for good. Due to her loyalty and dedication to his people and their cause, Thorin commemorated her as a hero among his people and should she ever need their aid or service, she would have it.

Respect aside Fili was instantly smitten with the woman, caring not for the large gap in age, height, or her magical powers and all he could talk about throughout the whole bloody trip was how beautiful she was and how he was going to find a way to woo the lass and marry her. But Fili wanted to wait until after Erebor was reclaimed so he could forge her worthy tokens of his affection using the best materials their land had to offer so he could express how serious he was and how highly he valued her through the ways of his culture. Yet after the daggers, decorative ax and staff failed to elicit the reaction he hoped for, Fili went back to the drawing board to construct this necklace. Although Y/N was a fighter as well as a magic user, she was still a maiden. Maidens had eyes for pretty things and Fili was certain that this necklace would show her how deeply he felt and advertise his intent as a worthy husband she would be proud to have on her arm. Everything he crafted were timeless treasures, just like Y/N was Fili’s timeless treasure.

But Kili wondered if she hadn’t given any notice to Fili’s other fine work, why would she start now? Even though he wanted to root for his brother, he didn’t have the heart to break it to Fili that Y/N just might not fancy him the same way he fancied her. But he couldn’t blame him for trying. He’d have done the same thing.

“This is your best work yet!” Kili responded. And he honestly meant that.  

Fili wiped the sweat off his brow and pushed back in his hair. “But will it be enough to impress her?”

Kili sighed. Looks like there was no escaping it. 

“You know I cannot answer that, brother. You’ll have to present it to her and find out. Although, I truly did mean what I said, this is beautiful work; staggering amount of detail, perfectly balanced facets and the color will compliment her eyes perfectly.”

Fili grinned and brushed his hand tenderly over the piece and sighed, “Her eyes are so much lovelier than these. I miss her terribly.” He paused and continued, “Thank you for your consultation as I worked on this project. I know I was a true arse at times, but I am grateful for all the help you have given me.” 

Kili smiled and waved it off. “I was more than happy to help. So!” he added cheerfully. “When will you present this to your lady love?” 

Fili stood and stretched out the kinks from his arms and back. His voice was hoarse from stressing the sharp popping of his joints. “Soon. I would like to bathe and tend to my beard and hair first before I seek her out.”

“Aye, you’ve been amiss in that. A good soak ought to wash away the ghastly visage of goblin foot from your person. Wait, what about the council this afternoon? Did Balin give you leave?”

Fili stopped short and cursed. “No, I forgot all about that… I was looking forward to a quick nap, too, but I suppose I can only afford a wash. I’ll go to her this evening then, damn it all.”

Kili watched as Fili began cleaning up his workstation. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

He shook his head. “You’ve been most helpful already, Kili. Thank you again, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Kili smiled and nodded before heading out, his heart and mind fluttering in anticipation on this evening’s turnout. He couldn’t quite swallow his shred of concern at the potential of Fili’s heart being ripped from his chest, but he would pray for a favorable outcome. The two made such a fine pair— 

“Kee!” Kili stopped and looked over his shoulder. Fili finished toweling off his face before seeing to wrapping the betrothal gift in the fine satin cloth he brought. “I’m heading to the baths now, but if you could locate Y/N’s whereabouts for me, I would greatly appreciate it. From what Balin informed me, I believe she resides in Laketown now, but it’s been so blasted long I wasn’t able to learn her residence.” 

“Sure, I’ll do that now. Go get yourself pretty, Goblin Face,” he winked. Fili chuckled and threw the towel at him as he ducked out. 

 

* * *

 

You had no idea what you were doing here. 

Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. So, why didn’t you leave with Gandalf and Bilbo after Erebor was reclaimed? Even though you were 500 years old, restlessness still found you and time was dwindling on and all the excuses for staying dwindled right along with it. There was one excuse that remained constant in your staying holed up in Laketown, but you couldn’t find a proper way to justify it anymore; especially if anyone were to ask. They haven’t, but it would only be a matter of time and… you did have _some_ pride, after all. But the truth was, Fili was here. And you couldn’t quite find it in you to say goodbye. 

Over the course of the quest, you both had gotten very close. There was something very comforting and unassuming about Fili that made you feel safe and warm, not to mention the way he cared for his brother had melted your heart; you knew he would make a wonderful king and father someday. And those dimples when he smiled? Ugh, if they didn’t consistently exercise your will to keep your hands off of him...

Although you greatly admired the golden prince and were endeared to his personality and character, you didn’t realize you had any romantic feelings towards him until the day of the five army battle when you held his lifeless body in your arms; he was mortally wounded protecting both his brother and uncle from Azog — you made a clone of yourself to distract the orc as the real you tended to Fili. You held him and begged whatever higher power was listening to show mercy and return him to you. The moment his eyes opened and he gave you that small, breathtaking smile, your heart opened with no intention of closing. And the rest was history. You stayed by Fili’s side throughout the entire healing process; visiting him, reading to him, providing him with food, drink, and a change of bandages. You worried that you were overstepping your bounds with such liberties that weren’t yours to take, as Fili’s family and people could very much look after him, but nobody seemed to mind and he continued to call for you specifically until he was completely mended.

And who were you to deny his wishes?

You meant to confess your feelings, but after he was healed, a lot of his time was stolen away after he was officially crowned, which was understandable. You kept telling yourself to leave, to seek out Gandalf and continue your life, but in your infatuated daze, you desperately hung on to just the tiniest morsel of excuses to stay. 

Fili’s time spent with you afterward was sparse, but he did visit when he could. And he never came empty-handed: he had given you the most beautiful weapons you’d ever seen and you treasured them above anything else you owned. You had a deep nestled fantasy that he would confess harbored feelings for you, but when all that came were weapons, you couldn’t help but feel like yours were one-sided. Besides, from your experience in your few hundred years of life, suitors gave their love flowers, poems, love letters, or jewelry. That in addition to how Fili never once made a move had spoke volumes on its own. 

But in his short visits, there were moments that rekindled your hope and had you thinking, maybe… just maybe he felt the same. Like the way he would hold your hand, or smile and look at you in a certain way, or how closely he would sit with you hanging on to every word you said. Or him telling you things about himself and claiming that not even Kili knew. You couldn’t discern whether that was a display of interest or if he was just being his usual sweet, kind self. If this was friendship or more. 

But now it’s been so long of no word or visit from Fili. Unless you had official business with the prince (which you didn’t) no one would bother telling you where he was, what his schedule was like, or allow you to see him so reaching Fili yourself was useless. Commemorated party or not. And as time went on, so did life. Lives were being reestablished right along this renewed kingdom. More help from dwarven kind was being emitted, so yours was rendered not just obsolete, but unwanted. A wizard’s apprentice had no business skulking around Erebor like a lovesick puppy praying for glimpses of the royal heir to grace their halls. So you relocated to Laketown but you fared no better there, either, after a time. 

And yet here you were anyway. Living day to day hoping for a surprise visit from your dwarf friend that captured your heart that may not come. 

Today, however, you decided it was time to move on. You would wrap up your ties here, thank Bard and Thorin for their hospitality for lending you places a stay, find word on where Gandalf was off to next, and then arrange to meet him at that destination. 

There had been too many days and nights spent attempting to convince yourself of any hint or clue of romance between you and Fili or if it was all in your head. And now as time continued on with no word from him? A strange clarity grew into focus: it didn’t matter whether or not love was there, or whether or not your feelings were even requited. What mattered was that you told him how you felt before you left. You’d regret it if you didn’t.

But still… it would be embarrassing to pour out your heart and soul to a potentially indifferent love interest (and former close friend) after lingering around for days, weeks, and months without seeing him. You mulled around some possible plans in your head when a chipper greeting sounded from behind you while you were out in town making arrangements.

“Good afternoon, Lady Y/N!” 

A short, hooded figure approached you, weaving in and out of the crowd in the market. You recognized that voice even before he lifted his hood to give you a peek at what was underneath.

“Afternoon, Prince Kili,” you returned. He wrinkled his nose at the use of his formal name but smiled brightly despite it. “Fancy running into you here! Doing some errands?”

“I was looking for you, actually.”

“Oh? What can I do for you?”

Kili gestured you closer and he repositioned the hood on his head to better shield his identity. “I was wondering if you had any evening engagements planned for today?”

“Nothing that can’t be pushed to tomorrow. Why? Oh, here, let’s go inside so you don’t have to creep around undercover.”

By mutual agreement, you both made way to your lodging nearby, away from any nosy onlookers who would go well out of their way to catch a glimpse of the royal Durin line in person. 

“New place or are you redecorating?” he asked warily as he took in the state of your nearly empty residence. You were already in the process of getting rid of most of the things you couldn’t pack or take with you, leaving out only the necessary furniture that you would be using daily. Kili sat himself at the table and you fetched both of you some drinks and snacks.

“Not exactly. I’ll be leaving town once I hear back from Gandalf.”

Kili’s eyes widened and he jumped to his feet even though he just made himself at home. “What?! Why?” 

You were touched by how hurt he sounded at the mention of you leaving, but it wasn’t going to change the fact that your time with your dwarf friends has concluded long ago. It’d kill you to be so far apart from Fili, but you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself any longer. The more you thought about leaving, the more it made sense. 

You fiddled with your hands to distract yourself from caving into those big brown eyes and were suddenly torn with your own reasoning. Kili was a direct line to Fili — now would be the perfect time to pass along a message to him; request for Fili’s time before you left, maybe open a line to exchange letters in the future to remain friends—

“I know Bard must be grateful to have a magic user in his midst and Mahal knows that even Erebor magic users are in short supply.”

“Kili,” you tried your best to sound practical. You ran your fingers through your hair trying to convince yourself of your own point, “I’m not needed here any longer. My powers are for deception and stealth, not building or restoring things. Everyone’s healed, you have plenty of help reconstructing Erebor with your citizens, and Laketown is just about done with theirs. I’m actually surprised that Gandalf hasn’t already sent for me yet.”

“But you—you cannot just... “ Kili struggled for words and kept stopping himself from forming any complete sentences, as if he was about to blurt out a huge secret. You eyed him suspiciously. 

He tried again, this time moving to sit beside you, imploring with his eyes. “Is there truly no reason for you to stay?”

It was the moment of truth. Your heart bubbled up from your chest to your throat, ready to divulge all of your feelings for Fili for the first time out loud to someone else. The words stopped at your lips and you suffered in silence, opening and closing your mouth to answer with anything besides the truth but found that you could no longer hide it. What was the point? You were leaving.

“I’m in love with your brother,” you blurted. 

As expected, Kili looked very surprised. But he quickly rebounded with that large grin you always loved to see, but it quickly shifted into a confused frown. “I do not understand… if you love Fili, why are you leaving?”

You sighed and clasped your hands in your lap. Kili scooted closer and his warm hand encompassed yours for support, trying to understand. Once you got started, the words flew from your mouth like children to the courtyard for play.

“He’s the whole reason why I even stayed this long in the first place. He’s all I think about and everything I could ever want, but I can’t kid myself living this fantasy anymore. We stayed good friends, yes, but even the best of friends part ways at some point in their life, and that’s just the way it goes. And the more I think about it, the idea of Fili and I belonging together is silly. He’s a prince and I’m just a wizard’s apprentice. I’m over 500 years old and he hasn’t even hit 90 yet. More importantly, if he has any feelings for me, he hasn’t expressed them at all and it’s been ages since the quest. I’d have told him how I felt, myself, if I hadn’t realized it too late. He’s basically untouchable now.”

“I see. What about the weapons he gifted you?” Kili asked casually. 

“Exactly! Weapons! They’re beautiful, make no mistake, but they’re hardly declarations of love. Most men gift their interest with flowers or letters or jewelry. But still, I treasure his weapons just the same; best gifts I've ever gotten, even if they're unconventional ones.”

Kili smiled. And he smiled big. The type of smile that, if you weren’t already head over heels with his brother, would make you swoon into a gooey puddle. You didn’t trust it one bit. 

“Kili…” you warned as his look intensified. “Don’t you go and blab any of this to him! I confessed this to you in full confidentiality!”

He waved his hands, “No, no. On my honor, this will remain between us. This is all so perfect! The reason I sought you out today was actually on Fili’s bequest; his morning activity had put him behind today, but he wishes to see you after his meetings are finished. That will be the perfect time to tell him how you feel!”

Kili seemed so sure and confident but you didn’t want to get sucked back down that rabbit hole of topsy turvy love-me-nots. But then… you’d regret _not_ telling him. But it’s been so long! What if he finds it odd? Ugh, in all of your 500 years, you wished you had more experience with this. You couldn’t help but continue batting between whether confessing in person would be beneficial or not. 

“I don’t know, Kili… maybe it’s best that he doesn’t know. He hasn’t seen me in so long and he hasn’t even sent me a letter; I probably haven’t even crossed his mind. Maybe I should confess after I’ve left.” 

Kili shook his head. “I know he hasn’t been by, but I assure you that it is not because he doesn’t want your company! Believe me, he speaks of you often enough that it’s actually a bit tiring to listen to. His time of late has been a bit… uh, preoccupied, as it were. But the first thing he wished to do at his earliest availability was to see you again, he told me that himself. Let’s arrange for him to meet you here this evening — you won’t regret it! Please?” 

Warmth spread through your chest. Fili thought of you often? And the first thing he wanted to do was see you? Well, crap, there goes that budding seed of hope again. Your lack of resolve coupled with Kili’s charm and confounded soulful puppy eyes could not be argued with. You sighed in defeat and leapt headfirst back down the rabbit hole. 

“Don’t make me regret telling you this, you scoundrel,” you pouted playfully. 

Kili rose from his seat with purpose. “So... may I tell him that you’ll be expecting him this evening?”

“Yes, Kili,” you laughed at his exuberance, as if he were set on pairing you together as his life mission. It was cute, but whether or not it all worked out, at least Kili seemed accepting of the idea of you and Fili together. Maybe you should have told Kili about it forever ago and saved you some of this pent up torment.  

“Good! Now, don’t you go sneaking out of town until after you talk things out with my brother, or I’m afraid I’ll have to order my kin to hunt you down and drag you back. Publicly. In front of everyone—”

“Yes, that is what ‘publicly’ means.”

“—with the royal guard if I have to!” he vowed. “Or better yet: I’ll drag you back myself!!”

You held up your hands in mock surrender, “All right already, I got it! I’ll stay here.”

Kili nodded, pleased. He lingered in the doorway a moment giving you a peculiar smile before striding back over to pull you into a tight hug. “I’d wish you luck, but you don’t it need it at all.”

After Kili basically pranced his way out the door, you were left to agonize over the hours of the evening to come for the rest of the day. You were a bundle of nerves rehearsing the words you needed to say, but even so you couldn’t help but smile with hope.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day flew by for Kili and the only thing he wanted to do was get out of Erebor and head to the tavern in Laketown. They had a seasonal brew of ale specific just to them and Kili had gotten an intense craving to wet his whistle with it after he was done with his mandatory obligations for the day after the morning detour. Fili had been gone for hours after he delivered the message to him and Kili took that as a good sign that their talk was going well. He’s always wanted a sister and he really liked Y/N; he couldn’t have asked for anyone better for his brother than her. 

And how perfect was it that she loved Fili, too? They probably should have thought that dwarven courting rituals might fly over her head. That explained why she didn’t respond accordingly to Fili when he gifted the weapons to her, but who cares! Y/N was in love with him! That alone put a skip in his step. 

It was the hardest thing in the world keeping the knowledge of Y/N’s feelings to himself, though — he wanted so badly to reassure his nervous brother that it was all smooth sailing this evening. Especially when Fili asked, “What if she refuses me, Kee? It’s been so long since I last saw her.” To which he replied, quite happily, “She accepted your courting gifts, didn’t she? Now, stop talking to me and go woo your future wife, she’s waiting for you!”

After shooing him out the door, Kili was swept up into his own busy schedule. He passed by so many people he wanted very desperately to share the news to: his mother, Balin, Thorin, and pretty much everybody he came across; he was just beyond happy for Fili and wanted to celebrate with him as soon as he returned. And when he (understandably) didn’t, Kili needed a distraction. 

He had half a mind to stop in at Y/N’s to check on them but very quickly decided against that idea. They would probably like to be alone to uh… ‘celebrate’ and Kili had no intention of potentially seeing anything that could not be unseen. So, tavern it was!

The first thing Kili saw when he entered the establishment was the large throng of people huddled about. It was always so blasted crowded here since the reconstruction and Kili tightened his traveling cloak around himself so he could remain hidden. The next thing he noticed when he squeezed his way to the bar was the spectacle the humans were circling and after catching sight of the point of interest, he immediately barreled through the throng to get to it. 

“Fili! What in Durin’s name are you—” The words quickly died on his lips upon realizing they were in a very public place, Fili had not worn anything to conceal his identity with and he didn’t want to make a bigger scene than what his obviously drunk brother was doing. Kili hastily shrugged off the cloak he used to disguise himself and draped it over his brother — better a sober Prince of Erebor to be recognized in a dingy human tavern than a wasted one. Hopefully these people would be too drunk to remember which one it was later on. 

By his stubble, as far as celebration locations went, why did Fili feel the need to come _here_? Kili was dying to know what happened and would feel sore for days if the Laketown folks got the scoop before he did! He looked around for Y/N but couldn’t find her amidst the tower of people. 

Kili wanted to tell the gawking group of humans to back off, but remembered to use his manners instead. “Good evening! Very nice to see you all. If you would excuse us, and retrieve Lady Y/N, I have some important matters to discuss with my kin, thank you.”

The group gave them space, but only just. They wanted to get a good look at the drunken prince as they could and were constantly flicking their gazes over, pointing and laughing. In a rush to his defense, Kili wanted to punch them all in the face, but considering the ruckus guffawing in his ear, perhaps he would start with his brother for doing something so stupid like this in the first place. 

“Fili,” he hissed in his ear. “I know you must have a very good reason, but why in Mahal’s name are you completely tanked in a public tavern? You could have come back home!” Fili was by no means a lightweight, so Kili gathered he must have been here a while.

Fili answered by downing what was already in his mug and swayed a bit as he lifted his arm to indicate that he wanted more. 

Kili’s face wrinkled in disapproval. “Honestly, there are more acceptable ways to celebrate your engagement, Fee. I’ve been going mad waiting for you to come back and tell me how it all went! Where’s Y/N?” He looked around again but seeing past the towering figures was nigh on impossible from their seated position and Kili refused to leave Fili’s side. He hoped she wasn’t far—

Fili mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath. 

“What?”

“Oh, Kee…” Fili drawled slowly as he slumped in his seat. Kili sensed something was very off and he grew worried when he heard a wet sniffle. 

“Fili, is everything—”

Fili abruptly slammed his empty mug down on the table and shoved Kili’s hood off his head and Kili recoiled at what he saw once his face was in clear view. Fili’s eyes were bloodshot, his face hardened, drawn, reddened from the alcohol coursing through him, and wet. 

“Where the bleeding— _hic_ —Void is the barmaid?! Bar. Maid!” Fili slurred loudly, drawing more eyes over to them. 

Kili threw the hood back on, fished out some coin, and pulled Fili to his feet before anybody else could see him. Fili protested and fought with drunken strength the whole way as he was yanked along, but Kili’s sharp mind won out the battle in the end. He kept his head down, hoping nobody outside the tavern would recognize him in this very embarrassing spectacle that would no doubt reach Thorin’s ears come morning. But he was content enough to shield his brother from view. The sounds alone, unfortunately, were enough by themselves to draw in unwanted attention since it was much quieter outside. 

But there was no way Kili was delivering his brother in such a state back into Erebor without being detected, so he led them down an abandoned alley and shoved him against the wall. Fili looked up at him through the tears in his eyes and all the annoyance and anger Kili felt whooshed out of him in a rush.

He pulled Fili into his chest, hugging him hard.

Fili openly wept into Kili’s shoulder, clinging onto him just as tightly. Kili’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion. He didn’t understand what had happened between the time he left Y/N’s that resulted into Fili drinking himself stupid alone at the tavern, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Kili was even more worried now for Fili than before; not only had Fili never drank this heavily (he was always a responsible drinker) but he had never heard Fili cry like this. Ever. Not even when their mother broke the news about their father being killed in battle and Fili was an innately sensitive soul as it was. Aside from that day, Kili rarely ever saw his brother cry at all. And as his older brother cried and shook like a dwarf in mourning, all Kili could do was soothe him with words, back rubs and gentle rocking. 

“Fili...” he said once the sobbing died down to heavy sniffles; he didn’t know where to start. 

“My Y/N, Kee, what am I supposed to do?” Fili wailed in his chest and Kili felt a twinge of panic. Had something happened to her? Was she injured? Had she lost her nerve and moved away before Fili had a chance to voice his intentions? There were so many questions and solutions that just didn’t fit in Kili’s mind. 

“Calm down, Fee. Shhh… that’s it, just calm down. Breathe with me.” 

Kili was able to stabilize him for now with deep, calming breaths, but Fili was still worse for wear. His well-groomed cheeks were stained with tears, soaking into his beard.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Kili asked softly. Fili pulled away and wiped his wrist across his nose. It was strange to see someone Kili looked up to for, literally, all of his life look so… deflated and lost. Kili wasn’t sure what to do; Fili was the one who always had all the answers and now Kili had to scramble for what to do to help. 

Fili’s eyes were unfocused and his thoughts were at a place Kili was trying desperately to reach. “I need a drink,” Fili said flatly, followed with a congested-sounding sniffle. 

“Tell me what happened first and I will get you a drink. Deal?” 

Fili wobbled as he turned and looked up at the dark sky. He inhaled deeply through his mouth and exhaled sharply. He shook his head and hugged himself, muttering a string of unintelligible words. Kili waited patiently. 

“Oh, Kili. Y/N… she…” And erupted into sobs once more. Bits of phrases and words made it through here and there, but Fili was still far too gone to be able to speak calmly about what happened. Kili let him cry and offered him comfort. He hated to shush him, but there were many heads beginning to peek out of their windows to investigate the disruptive sounds he was making and he knew they had to make their way back home.

Kili was so confused. 

Just that day, just that _morning_ , Y/N had confessed that she was in love with his brother — which was very happy news, indeed! — but then somehow Fili winds up drinking alone utterly heartbroken? Something wasn’t adding up, but after seeing how crestfallen he was, Kili was determined to get answers and give Y/N a piece of his mind if she was the one who hurt him. But the first order of business was sobering Fili up enough to take him home and talk it out. And though it was a tough travel, Kili carried Fili on his pony then through the halls all the way back, right to their adjoined room. Miraculously, they made it there unseen.

“This isn’t an ale…” Fili pouted after being handed a pitcher of water. 

Kili resumed removing his shoes and tucking him into his bed. “You said ‘a drink’. Water is a drink — you drank plenty of ale and spirits all by yourself and you should hydrate.” 

Fili grumbled but greedily drank through it. Kili continued, “I understand you have your reasons, whatever they may be, but if uncle catches wind that the Crown Prince of Erebor got wasted in Laketown, I’ll have no idea what to tell him. Blessed Mahal, _I’m_ supposed to be the reckless one, and here you are behaving like an undignified—”

“I lost her.”

Kili stilled. “What are you talking about?”

“My lovely goddess… I didn’t even have a chance to tell her how beautiful she is, or how she fills my world with sunlight.”

“Fee?”

Fili’s eyes suddenly widened and he threw his face in his hands to lament his woes. “And her magnificent arse, Kee! Her voluptuous bosom! Her sinfully full lips; I’ll never know how they feel! I took too long...”

Fili continued babbling on and on, growing more agitated, diving deeper and deeper into his drunken fit without Kili being able to get a word in. Kili retrieved the pitcher of water which had some left in it and splashed Fili in the face. That did the trick. 

While Fili spat and coughed, Kili shoved his finger in his face. “That is quite enough! Get ahold of yourself and pull it together!” 

“You pull it! Just take it—take my heart and throw it off the precipice! And while you’re at it, dispose of this sodding thing,” Fili fumbled with his nightshirt, growing frustrated at not finding his pockets, and Kili looked at the coat he removed from him before he got Fili into bed and assumed the “sodding thing” he was talking about was… yup, the necklace. 

Frowning at him, Kili said, “I think you’re being a wee bit extreme for someone who lost their nerve—”

“She gave my dagger to someone else!”

Kili’s blood went cold. That couldn’t be right. Short of shaving or cutting their beard, giving a courting gift to another person was one of the biggest, gravest insults, and cruelest rejections, a dwarf could be subject to. Anger boiled inside him and his first reaction was to explode out the room and storm Y/N’s place in a rage, but there was something about this whole thing that still didn’t sit right. Kili was surprised at how calm his voice was as opposed to the heat in his blood. 

“Okay, Fili, tell me exactly what happened.”

Fili went off topic in a babble, and Kili wasn’t even sure where the line of credibility separated from his drunken nonsense exclamations about how wonderful Y/N was, or how fantastic her physical attributes were, but from the gist of the story he gathered was: while Fili was on his way to Y/N’s place, he saw her out in town handing off the dagger he smithed her to another man and didn’t stick around for the rest. 

Rather than wait until morning to clear up whatever misunderstanding had occurred, Kili tucked Fili in, grabbed a pony, and rushed back out to Laketown in search of Y/N to straighten this out. He didn’t care how late it was. He just needed to get her here before the events of the evening ruined Fili’s reputation so he knew what his alibi would be to discredit the rumors. 

Kili didn’t care how long it took or if he would make good on his word and need to hunt Y/N down and drag her back to the mountain. But one thing was for certain: Mahal help the poor soul who dares harm his brother.

 

* * *

 

“It’s you! You’re here!” Fili smiled, reaching for you. As you drew closer, you could smell the ale on him as if he bathed in it. 

“Why is he all wet?” you asked Kili suspiciously. 

He waved the question away and pushed you closer. “Nevermind that, just get in there.” 

“Kili, he’s completely trashed! There’ll be no getting through to him at all in this state,” you admonished while Fili slurred and giggled on in the background.

Kili gestured demonstratively to his brother as he spoke to you, “Look, he’s smiling! He is already doing so much better just with you in the room! Earlier on, I had to pull teeth just to get him to tell me what happened and he was bawling his eyes out—”

“I could look at your gorgeous face for a thousand— _hic_ —a thousand ‘ears. Kee, look! This pretty lil lady looks just like Y/N! You look like my lady love! Isn't she divine?” Fili turned to his brother, smiling goofily.

When Kili sought you out at this ungodly hour by banging like hell on your door, you thought something horrible happened. Fili didn’t show and all you could do was pace around and wait, growing more and more anxious by the minute. You didn’t want to go looking for him, just in case you happened to miss him from stopping by. But so many different scenarios played out in your head, and all of them weren’t favorable. You were certain that he had a change of heart, but then felt a surge of relief wash through you when you heard that knocking, thinking it was Fili. But then Kili barged in. Demanding some nonsense about why you handed Fili’s dagger to someone else, among other unpleasant things. It resulted in a shouting match and wrongfully placed accusations that you managed to set straight after showing him the acclaimed dagger still tied to your hip. Kili then, in his embarrassed (yet relieved) epiphany, hauled you up on his pony and you both took off for Erebor. Kili wouldn’t tell you why Fili was late, only that this was between you two and that Fili needed you there. Gods, from how frantic Kili was to take you to him, you thought Fili was gravely injured or something, but no. Just dead drunk.

Kili wouldn’t tell you why Fili was late or drank himself to such a state, only that this was between you two and that Fili needed you there. 

“But she fancies another…” Fili sniffed. “My heart is unrequited.” Then angrily bit out, “He doesn’t deserve her! Or my weapons! What has he done to earn her love, Kili!? I loved her first! Why would she do that?!” 

“Why would I do what?” you asked Kili, exasperated and confused.

Kili opened his mouth to answer by closed it, realizing Fili could hear him. He stepped up to whisper to you, “He thinks you gave his dagger, the one he gifted you, to someone else.”

“But I didn’t!” you protested. 

“He doesn’t know that,” Kili jerked his head over to where his brother was delving into another drunken fit. Fili had a lot of choice words for that poor townsman he was cursing. 

You were so overwhelmed by everything about this day that transpired and Kili looked to you, helpless. You gave him an understanding nod and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll stay with him, if that’s okay,” you said, your heart beating faster at the words of love and devotion spewing from Fili’s lips. 

“—Kee! Grab my sword, I will duel the death to the jacksie! I mean, death the duel… argh! TO THE DEATH!”

He agreed, both of you ignoring the ranting in the background, “Aye, that would be best. I’ll lock the door so no one comes in and my room is just over there if you need me. Hopefully you can calm him down somehow.”

“Thanks.”

Finally tuning in to the raging dwarf wiling out in the bed, you took a breath and approached him.

“—how dare he accept my dagger. That beardless, common… oh, hello! Do you know where Lady Y/N is? Just pick ‘er up and drop her right here,” he patted his lap very sensually. “I fancy her, you see, and there is a very important matter I must discuss with the lass.”

Kili shook his head with a sigh and closed the door and then it was just you and Fili.

You smiled sadly and wondered if you were doing more harm than good being here and whether or not all the words he was saying were the result of a drunk or if his inner feelings were being exploited from the alcohol. In either event, this is not how you imagined tonight to go at all.

“She’s right here,” you pointed to yourself. 

Fili squinted at you, pshed, and heavily waved his hand. “Nooo. No, my Y/N is in Laketown with another—another…” His chin trembled when he pouted. “I need more ale.”

“Tell me about her,” you said, hoping to divert another fit and handing him some water. 

It seemed to work. His whole face lit up, lighting your heart right along with it. He went into a heartwarming description of not just your physical assets, but bits of your personality that he adored and then divulged the first moment he knew he was in love with you, that he wanted a big family with you, and how you were the only force that brought him back from the brink of death back on the battlements. It made you fall in love with him all over again. 

“...and!” He continued with a wag of his finger, “Forgive me for my indelicacy, but her bum and legs are just _delicious_. I would happily spend many hours down below with my head locked between her thighs just so I could taste her sweet, dripping—”

“Okay, okay, stop! I get the picture,” you blushed. Fili settled back in his pillows and chuckled like an impish child. Gods, you’ve never seen him this drunk before. Heck, you haven’t seen him drunk period, but even in his state, he still thought of you so fondly. And sexually. Goodness, that wasn’t supposed to be an arousing thought to you, but it was. You cleared your throat awkwardly thinking about what it would be like to have his face where he described and tucked some hair behind your ear when you felt his hand brush yours.

His eyes searched your face intently and for a moment you thought that he recognized you.

“Uncanny! You look just like her.” Okay, maybe not.

“So you’ve said. Y/N’s a lucky woman to have earned your affections, Fili.”

Fili's eyes dropped.

“I am not so lucky. She gave my affections to some _man_. And I am sad all day long… I was going to propose to her today. I made her a pretty gift, as well. It was my best work, that’s what my brother said.” He slurred, followed closely with a big yawn as fatigue began to settle in. It seemed all his ranting and drinking were catching up with his body.

Your eyes widened — so that’s why Kili was so confident and insistent about you meeting up earlier and telling Fili how you felt! He knew Fili’s intentions the whole time! Fili appeared to have drifted off to sleep and you sat on his bed completely shocked. Was he really going to propose to you? And what did he mean you gave your affections to another man? Ah, maybe he was referring to the dagger… Kili seemed to be of the same delusion, too, but you assumed it must have been when you were showing off your dagger to one of the townsfolk who asked about it. You shook your head. This is why communication was important. It was a lesson well-learned; if you’d just let Fili know, there wouldn’t be this whole mess to deal with and if Fili would have just came to your house like he was supposed to, you could have talked it out-- soberly! 

You glared at him, but smiled quickly afterward. 

_You beautiful dolt._

Fili looked so peaceful. You reached over to move aside some stray pieces framing his face to tuck behind his cute dwarven ears and returned to your thoughts, wondering if you should leave or stay a while longer, if anything just to admire his beauty. You didn’t know how long you sat there stewing in your thoughts, but a sudden movement stirred you from them. 

“Y/N?” You head jerked over to a very sleepy Fili who was squinting at you even though you were well within arm’s reach. 

“Hi, Fili,” you smiled patiently. He seemed more like himself now, the alcohol’s effects were wearing off.

“Hello. My! You look stunning, as always!”

He was still dazed and battling consciousness and you regarded him fondly just the same. “You’ll make me blush.”

Fili smiled and yawned, “I shall never tire of making you blush. Oh, Y/N… today was awful. I needed this dream. Can I start again?”

You weren’t sure what that was supposed to mean but you indulged him. He made a failed attempt at grabbing your hand, so you scooted closer and took his hand in yours instead. With his eyes closed and his brows furrowed, he brought your knuckles to his lips and grazed a kiss there, tickling your skin with his mustache and beard. 

His eyes opened and locked onto yours.

“Y/N, I love you with both heart and soul of my very being. I have longed to tell you how deeply I’ve felt for you since the moment we met. I should have told you sooner, so I’ve decided to just come out with it now. If you can accept it, I pledge my heart to you now and for always.”

Oh, Fili...

“I love you, too, you silly lug,” you pressed a kiss to his head, not knowing if he would even remember this interaction, but it felt appropriate to say. Fili smiled brightly and spoke to you in his native tongue. You weren’t sure what he was saying, but given his smile and joy, you assumed they were happy words. He seemed to understand that he was still talking to you in Khuzdul and you weren’t answering his questions, so he shook his head and started over.

“Oho! You do, do you? We should get married then, shouldn’t we! Will you be my wife?”

You smiled warmly, “I will.”

You knew he was still drunk, and you probably should be deflecting this very serious topic with some other form of distraction to save the conversation for a better time, but the way he was looking at you combined with how upset he was over the misunderstanding, with your own feelings for him, you just said it.

I will.

And those two simple words were the elixir Fili needed to erase the error of the day; his grin was so wide his dimples were deeply wedged in his cheeks.

You couldn’t help the impulse spurred on by that smile of his. You wanted to kiss him. As you drew closer and closer, Fili’s smile gradually disappeared and was replaced by a certain awe and longing as he eyes flicked between your eyes and lips before lingering on the impending kiss coming his way. You closed your eyes and pressed your lips to his mouth, hearing him inhale in a gasp and feeling his hand press behind your neck hesitantly, drawing you closer as he relaxed at your eager response. He hummed against your lips and a blush flared behind your cheeks as you shyly pulled away.

Fili positively beamed. “Oh, I will make you so happy! So happy. Much happier than that arse ever would.”

“Oh, Fili.” You sighed fondly. 

“You’re mine! He’s not allowed to have you. You’re _my_ One! All my gifts say so, aye, Kili?”

“Aye.”

You didn’t hear his brother sneak back in but he was standing behind you wearing an amused, knowing expression and you shrugged and held up your hands in defeat, not bothering to hide how closely you were sitting against his brother. 

“When I didn’t hear any yelling, I was checking to see if this jacksie finally calmed down enough to go to sleep. I’m happy you were quite successful,” he smirked. Fili had finally used up all of his remaining energy and finally dropped into a deep slumber. His hand still grasping yours. 

“How long were you standing there?” you asked nervously. 

Kili shrugged and kept his sight on Fili, “Long enough. Mahal… he is simply mad about you, I hope this doesn’t deter your feelings for him in any way. This wasn’t exactly how he planned on confessing his heart to you.”

“You know, in some strange way, this makes me love him even more.” You brushed more hair out of Fili’s face and caressed the hair on his cheek. His nose was still reddened from the ale and stood out starkly against his yellow hair. You couldn’t believe he asked you to marry him. That he had been planning to ask you today and likely since he started visiting you and delivering weapons. “What’s this about gifts?” 

“That’s a relief! Oh, that? Come sit with me, Y/N. You’ve got a lot to learn about dwarven courting and marriage customs if you’re going to be tangling yourself with the likes of this one,” he waved you over to sit in a chair from across the way, as Fili’s snores filled the room. 

 

* * *

 

Fili woke with a groan and a headache the size of a mountain behind his skull. He gingerly cracked one eye open and the sunlight bathing his room was like a hot poker making itself at home in his eye socket. Pieces of last night flickered in his memory but the only thing he recalled with clarity was the event leading to his drinking escapade and a dream that Y/N came to him in his room. He was having trouble telling apart which events were which.

Wait… how did he end up in his bed? Ah, that’s right. He did recall Kili finding him and carrying him back. Speaking of the devil, Kili ventured in from the main entrance looking like he was the one who had the rough night. Fili flushed sheepishly, knowing that he had likely made an utter fool of himself. 

“Well, good morning to you,” Kili greeted dryly. “Feeling better?” Kili closed the door behind him and leaned his back on it while crossing his arms.

“Yeah, peachy,” he lied. Physical feelings of sickness and hangover aside, Fili’s still heart was shattered into a million pieces. A gaping hole was leftover from yesterday’s disaster and it was a miracle he even woke up at all from it. 

“I should hope so. That was some night you had.”

Fili glared at Kili’s indelicate tone, but he understood where it was coming from. Fili basically made a complete arse of himself at a human tavern, thus dragging the prestigious, illustrious name of Durin through the mud in the process during his bout of a indignant romance that he felt was warranted a good drinking.

“Forgive me, brother. Next time I seek consolation from a failed attempt of marriage proposals, I’ll be sure to lock myself up in solitary confinement to drown in my sorrow safely from view,” he snapped back. 

Kili’s gaze softened but his voice was stern, “From what you told me, you didn’t get a chance at asking for her hand. Do you remember anything that happened afterward?”

“Ah, that’s right…” Fili frowned and rubbed his temples. “I’m confusing yesterday with this beautiful dream I had of her.”

“Oh? Tell me about the dream.”

A sad smile bloomed on his lips. “Y/N came to me in my chambers. I told her how I felt about her, asked her to marry me, and she said she loved me. I held her hand and she gave me a kiss… It felt so real and I was so happy! Then after—”

Kili watched with amusement as Fili looked around his room and pieced the details of his dream and his memories of last night together as realization hit.

“Wait. Did that—was she really here!?”

“Aye.”

“But-but how?! I thought...”

“I snuck her in. You misunderstood the whole situation, reacted very poorly, and was far too gone to be reasoned with after the fact. She stayed here and somehow by the grace of Durin put up with you all night long sobering you up enough to rest, but at least you finally got it out and proposed to her.”

Fili lamented into his hands, “I what?! Oh no! What must she think of me now? I wanted my proposal to be so special for her and instead I mucked it all up.”

“Not necessarily.”

  
* * * * *

Fili’s head whipped over to the doorway to Kili’s room where you were standing. In your hands, you carried a small water basin and a cloth and in your other hand a small mug with cool water and some bread. No doubt he’d be very hungover and parched.

“Y/N! What’re you doing here?” Fili asked, mortified.

“We need to talk,” you responded nervously, throwing Kili a look. 

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Kili said before leaving the room through the adjoined door with a chipper wave. The door clicked shut behind him and Fili watched you anxiously as you walked around the dias of his bed platform and sat down beside him. You handed him some water and bread before soaking the cloth in. There was an awkward quiet between you as he ate and drank, waiting for the other to speak. Fili was first to end the silence.

“Everything Kili said, is it true?” 

“Basically.”

“Ugh, how embarrassing… I am so sorry,” Fili withdrew into himself. 

You smiled at him and the way he was “dwarfed” by his large pillows. Somehow that thought, coupled with this whole situation, made you laugh and you couldn’t stop yourself. Fili’s face was beet red. 

“What’s so funny?” He couldn’t help but smile along with you. 

You gestured between you, but it wasn’t even enough to encapsulate what you were referring to. It wasn’t this particular moment; it was all the events leading up to it; all the little fears and yearnings done on each side and the end result. “This. Us.”

“Us?” he ventured carefully, sitting up. 

You got the rest of your giggles out and soaked the rag in the water in the basin before placing it over his head to help with his headache. 

“I waited for you all day yesterday. Then later that night when I was beside myself with worry when you didn’t show, Kili barged in and told me — well, after he was finished yelling my ear off — that you were drunk as a skunk and that there was some horrible misunderstanding and that I had to come right away. He said you were on your way to see me, saw that I was giving a dagger of yours to another man, and then drank yourself stupid.”

Fili’s eyes fell. “Aye, that is true.”

“What you saw yesterday with the dagger? I wasn’t giving it away, I was showing off your beautiful craftsmanship because I received such a high compliment when I was wearing it. The fact that you thought for even a moment that I would hand off anything you’ve made me so readily is rather stupid of you and if you hadn’t had such a rough night, I’d have a mind to punish you for it.”

Fili winced and retreated back to his pillows, defeated and ashamed. “I… I cannot even begin to apologize… I had completely lost my head. What I did was immature, brash, and unbecoming. Where my mind was in that moment, I was just overwhelmed with hurt and jealousy; I should have just approached you and asked but instead I focused on how heartbroken I was at the possibility of someone else getting there first and made a fool of myself. I understand if you want nothing to do with me, but I hope you can forgive me someday. I miss your company and I’ve always had a fondness for you.”

“Do you remember anything at all from last night and what we talked about here?” you asked. Fili blew out a breath of air and leaned back to sort his thoughts. 

“I remember seeing you with that man, walking about town aimlessly, then heading to the tavern. Kili found me and brought me home, you came, we talked, and from what Kili says, my dumb arse proposed to you and I cannot even recall the details since it all is so fuzzy. Ugh, I am so—”

“I accepted.”

“—sorry. What was that you said?” That got his attention, he sat right back up, knocking the rag clean off of his head.

“That’s what you were coming to see me about yesterday, wasn’t it? To ask me to marry you?” He didn’t answer, he looked on in disbelief. “After you jumped to that ridiculous conclusion and took off to get drunk as a skunk, you wanted another shot and you asked me to be your wife.”

“And you actually _accepted_? You accepted a drunken dwarrow’s proposal.”

You frowned, wondering if you misread the whole thing somehow. “Did you not want me to?”

Fili shot forward and grabbed your hand in his, “No! Mahal, of course I want you for my wife, but… I planned this for so long and wanted it to be special for you and instead… after all you’ve seen, this awful scene I’ve made, you accepted me?” he drifted off with an embarrassed grimace, waving his hand around himself to summarize how his grand plan turned out. 

“Well, it’s safe to say that I can handle you at your worst. Just don’t go getting that drunk again and ask someone else for their hand in marriage, or I’ll have to kill you with all the weapons you gifted me.”

“I would never ask anyone but you for my own. I just regret not doing it properly.” He traced your features with a small smile. “Are you certain? Would you rather court each other first so I could regain some semblance of honor in your eyes?”

“Would it make you feel better to try again?” you smirked. He laughed and sat up to climb out of bed, but winced and clutched his head, lying back down. 

“Could you bring me my coat over there?” 

He instructed you to search through his pockets to retrieve a bulky silk parcel. “Open it.”

After carefully unwrapping the bundle, you were greeted with the most beautiful piece of jewelry you’d ever feasted your eyes on.  And the fact that Fili made this for you with his own hands had hit you deeply. This must have taken him months to make, and suddenly you understood the reason why he never saw you. He was busy crafting this. 

As if to answer the revelation you just arrived at Fili said, “I’ve been working on that since our last meeting. When you didn’t react to the weaponry, I wanted to make you something that would show you how I felt. This is what I intended to offer you with my proposal. It took so long to finish, I wanted it to be flawless. Turn it around.”

Inscribed in the back of the largest gem’s bezel was a date. The date you met at Bilbo’s house. 

“Fili…” you whispered, utterly touched. He watched you nervously from his bed as you looked over the necklace. “This is beyond beautiful. I don’t have anything to wear with this that could come even close to matching, but I love it!”

“It’s intended to be worn with a gown. I had hoped to see you wear it on our wedding day, if you… still wished to have me.”

After Kili properly educated you last night on the importance of what accepting a gift from a dwarrow entails (as well as proper protocol), you knew now that the weapons were intended as tokens of Fili’s love. The better the quality, detail and craftsmanship in it dictates how deep their love goes. Accepting a gift is accepting the dwarrow and their capabilities of being able to ascertain the same level of time and care for those they loved. Kili told you that dwarves referred to those special people as “Ones”. 

Closing the distance between you and sitting on the edge of his mattress, you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his neck. “I love you, Fili. And I still accept your proposal.”

Fili’s arms tightened around you and you heard him chuckle with relief into your hair. “Oh, I love you; I love you so deeply! Even though I made a huge arse of myself and have a rather sodding hangover headache, I am grateful you will still have me as yours. I will never do it again, you have my word.”

You pulled away and regarded him as he winced at the pain in his head. “I think I might know a way to cure that headache of yours,” you said thoughtfully, shooting him a sly glance.

Fili quickly caught on to your plan and smirked, pulling your face closer to his. “What remedy would you suggest, Amrâlimê?”

“For starters…”

Neither of you said anything else for a while. Your mouths were much too busy getting acquainted with each other. 

 

* * * * *

 

“FILI! FILI!” 

Both yours and Fili’s heads shot over to the front door to the loud voice barreling down the hallway, then swung to Kili’s door off to the side when he dipped his head quickly inside — “Fili! O-oh my. Er, pardon me, but Thorin is coming!” and out. And then back in, “Glad you worked everything out. Many blessings!” and out again.

But the message and congrats were given too late. Before either of you could interpret the words spoken or think of a proper response, Thorin’s booming voice grew louder until he barged inside. “What is this I hear about you drinking yourself into a blithering stupor at the Laketown tavern, wailing about like a raging lunatic! What in Mahal’s name is the matter with—”

Thorin’s eyes bounced between you two before narrowing on Fili as he slowly crossed his arms. Oh, that ire was fierce… You grabbed a hold of Fili’s hand — a gesture that did not go unnoticed with Thorin, who merely quirked a brow — and remained in place to help Fili explain or jump in if you needed to. Or shield him from harm from the fire threatening to shoot out of Thorin’s eyes. 

“There had better be an acceptable explanation to the incorrigible rumors that have been reported to me as well as why you have a female alone with you in your chambers after the fact.”

“I’m…” Fili’s voice wavered at the intensity of his uncle’s stare, but after one encouraging look and nod from you he smiled brightly and boasted with pride, “We’re getting married!”

 

* * *

 

You barely made it through the hall without Fili’s lips on yours and were hardly through the door to your chambers when Fili’s hands pawed at your clothing. Your hands were making eager progress with getting his own wedding garments off since his were much less complicated than yours. Fili was clad in just his under trousers and he hoisted you into his arms and carried you off to the bed with impressive strength considering the height difference; your mouths and tongues tangled together.

He tasted of wine but true to his word from many nights ago, he did not overindulge on your wedding day. Although you had had a bit more than you intended to due to one of the mandatory wedding games, you were cognizant enough to be ready for where you both were headed. Your husband settled his weight on top of you, yanking on the fabric of your dress impatiently.  

“Mm! Don’t rip my dress!” you managed to mumbled into his lips between kisses. Fili growled in frustration and tore away from you with a wet pop as he focused his attention with an adorable pout at the fastenings of the front of your gown. 

“Blasted corset… oh, you laugh now. Just wait until I get this off and we’ll see who has the last laugh.”

You giggled. “You were the one who insisted I wear it.”

“Aye,” he grunted as he fumbled and you reached up to help him along. “Only because it makes your breasts look so—”

His sentence was cut off when you lifted your hips into his bulge and he hissed upon contact but rolled his groin back into yours, sliding his hands up to cup your breasts after they were freed from their confines. 

“You minx.”

After a rather rocky go of explaining himself to Thorin that day, which Kili leapt in to verify, and being punished with a few weeks of watch duty, negotiations, and council meetings as atonement for his poor behavior, Fili and yourself finally got married. As the wedding day edged closer and closer, it was hard for the two of you to keep your hands off of each other. So it wasn’t a surprise that you both were excited to get back to your room to “copulate”, as Balin so unhelpfully put it during your banquet. 

Fili boasted a very satisfied smile after figuring out how to undo the rest of the corset and wasted no time in getting you out of it and your dress. With your lips locked together, you helped him out of the remaining layers of his own clothing before he pushed you down on your back and straddled your hips. Fili took a moment for his eyes to roam over your body, taking it in for the first time. 

His chest heaved with every breath he took, his blood still rushing from the urgency in leaving the wedding party and practically mounting you in the hallway. With a blush your eyes dipped down to where his erect sex rested on your lower stomach, jutting out proudly. It was surprising to see that he manscaped this area to match his mustache braids, only they weren’t as long. Flicking your stare back up to your new husband, his dilated blues were focused on your exposed breasts. 

Sensing your eyes on him, Fili locked his stare with yours and he smiled. 

“My beautiful wife,” he breathed reverently. You brought your hands up to cup his face and dug the pads of your fingers into his facial hair, knowing the pleasing effect it had on him, especially whenever you incorporated such touching when you made out with one another. It always got him going and this time was no different. Fili gasped at the touch and leaned into your hands, his fingers twitching anxious to touch you. They rounding over your hips and staying there, however, and you assumed he might need some encouragement. 

“Yours,” you reply.

You slid your hands from his face, down his shoulders, his arms, and led one of his hands up your body to touch your breasts. “Yours.” And the other lower to palm your sex, “All yours.”

Fili swallowed back a groan and his sex throbbed eagerly, happy with these invitations. Removing his hand from below, he used it to prop himself up so that he could shimmy his body down and pepper your face with kisses and nips. He claimed your lips with such hunger and want that when his arousal pressed into your thigh and he moaned upon contact, your core immediately opened for him. He began his descent downward to your neck, your clavicle, and finally his lips hovered over a perked nipple. 

His eyes held yours and you watched as he extended his tongue out to tease the perky nub before sucking it into his mouth. He brought his other hand up to grope and knead on the other breast and your back arched into a mewl. 

You felt him hum against the sensitive skin on your breasts before his mouth swapped places with his hand. 

“So beautiful,” he rasped from your chest. Your hands tangled into his golden hair and tugged sharply with a hiss when he nipped you a little too enthusiastically. 

“Sorry,” he kissed the place he bit and then leaned up to claim your lips. He massaged your mouth open with his tongue and you felt the heat of your arousal flaring your body temperature up from the inside out. His mustache braids tickled your cheeks from his angle posed above you, the silver beads a cool tap on your skin. 

Your legs scissored between you.

“Fili, I need you,” you moaned against his lips when you felt his sex nudge against your own. To your dismay, he pulled himself away and continued to kiss you with growing passion instead. It served to rile you up even further, but did nothing to placate the growing need to be filled by him. 

His tongue slipped passed your lips lazily and he pulled away, “This is how I intend to pleasure you with my mouth. When I taste you, here.” His blue eyes were glowing with desire as he palmed the mound of your sex again, this time dipping the tip of his finger between the velvety folds. 

His mouth opened in a silent moan and he watched your expression. “Oh, yeah,” he gritted out, coatring the digit further in your wetness.

You gasped at the teasing intrusion and his mouth landed upon yours, making good on his promise by dipping his tongue in and around, tasting you, dominating you with a kiss, all the while he continued to tease you down below to prepare you of what was to come. Your hips made feeble attempts to grasping on to any sort of friction or encouraging his finger to delve deeper, but he remained completely in charge. 

“Fili, please!” you whined in frustration.

“Very well… but only because you asked me so nicely,” he winked, kissing his way down your body until he came to the juncture between your legs. 

Propped up on his elbows, he gently inched your legs apart with his hands using the inside of your thighs. His eyes shot to yours, blackened in lust once he got a good look at you and how ready you were.

“I’ve waited so long to taste you. I won’t stay here too long, I need to be in you… but first, a taste.”

And then he got right to it. Your hips bucked against his mouth. You’d initially expected him to ease into it, but he took a very bold dive on feasting you with every evidence of enjoyment with you answering in kind. Heat ignited in your core, a coil tightening at Fili’s intoxicating, altering mix of lazy strokes and rapid flicks of his tongue inside your wettening slit and throbbing clit. 

Your voice pitched higher and higher as you approached a climax and Fili did not relent. Needing something to hold on to, your hands clenched the furs of the bed. 

But right before you could come, Fili tore his mouth off of you with an animalistic grunt and prowled over your flushed body. “I want to feel you come while I’m inside you. Kiss me.”

You readily obliged, happy for the distraction as he guided his hard length in between your folds. There was a pinch at his wide girth, and he distracted you with his lips, but there was still a slight resistance to him. He gave you a quick peck and reviewed your face for any signs of discomfort. 

“Are you okay?” he asked when you continued to tense. 

You nodded and threw your hands around his neck to pull him closer. 

“Yeah, I’m just nervous. You’re larger than I expected.”

He looked down at where you two were in the process of being joined and glanced at you with serious devotion. “Y/N, we don’t have to consummate our marriage this night. We can take it slow, or I can further prepare you. What do you need?”

“My husband.” You grinned when he smirked. “Don’t stop.” 

He gave a chuckle and leaned his forehead against yours. “I am happy to be of service. I love you so much,” he pressed a chaste kiss against your lips, but you chased him for more. You felt Fili rub his tip up and down your slit, stimulating the sensitive bundle of nerves of your most intimate place and the dormant climax his mouth brought you had started to return.

As you felt yourself easing up for him further, you gave him a nod and he started to push in. Gently at first. Then rocking slowly in and out, coating your slickness on him to help welcome the joining. 

Fili’s head dipped back in a deep moan. “Mahal! So hot and _tight_ ,” he bit out as he eased in another inch. “Is this okay?”

God, just the sound of his strained voice as he entered you was enough to do you in. “Yeah, please don’t stop!” 

After pressing another kiss on your lips, Fili teased the side of your neck with his teeth and continued rocking his hips, with yours accompanying him. Each thrust drove him in deeper and deeper and your body was quickly adjusting and accepting his size. And soon after, the small pinch you felt was being erased with a rapidly growing pleasure.

With one last hitch of thrusting, he fully entered you with a sharp slap of skin, causing you both to cry out relishing the finality of being joined together as one. Fili gave you time to adjust to him as he panted and moaned at this new feeling for him, but you resumed control of the thrusting almost immediately, basking in the delicious stretch and fullness he was giving you and greedy for more. 

He growled into your ear and rolled you both over and placed his hands on your hips. “Take me, ride me!” he commanded darkly. 

Without missing a beat, you took everything he had to offer, increasing your pace faster and faster to get you that sweet buildup you needed. You rolled your hips on top of him as he remained still, panting heavily as he watched the sight of your breasts bouncing with every slam of your hips. His gaze traveled lower, watching you rise and lower yourself on his length as it disappeared into your body and reappeared with each wet smack. 

His head leaned back but his eyes remained transfixed right where you were joined. You could tell he really enjoyed the view with how he throbbed and pulsed inside of you. Little grunts of pleasure and dirty praises escapes his lips to encourage you on. To take him harder. Faster. Rougher. 

You felt his grip tighten on you when an orgasm snuck up on you from behind and your wet core tightened hold on him as you rode it out with a scream of his name.

He didn’t give you time to cool down, he was too far gone with need. Keeping you joined, he rolled you over on your back with an easy flip and you worked together to create the friction you needed. He sat up on his knees and pumped you up and down with incredible strength. You rocked yourself by pushing and pulling against his pelvis with your legs using the mattress for leverage. 

Fili was so beautiful and wild like this. His arm muscles bulged out and popped keeping you in place as he continued to pound his way into your next orgasm while he chased after his own. He was getting close, you could tell from his erratic breathing and feel his cock harden to stone inside. Your eyes locked onto his face not wanting to miss the expression he’d have when he achieved satisfaction. 

“I love you, Fili,” you panted. His clenched eyes opened and his pace turned brutal. 

“I love you— _sweet Mahal!_ ” his voice cracked as he let out long, loud moan and gave several solicitous thrusts. And just as he was coming hot and thick inside of you, the sharp-knifed pleasure of your own orgasm rose to meet his and you climaxed together. Fili gave a final thrust and you felt his release continue to kick inside of you until it overflowed down your thighs. 

At that exact moment when you both were off floating on a blissful little cloud far away from Erebor, there was a not so subtle shout of fear coming from the bedroom door that had opened. 

“By the grace of Durin! My eyes! Oh, gods! Why are you in here?!”

Fili, still in the throes of passion, was just dazed enough by a moment of confusion. When he realized who it was, he cursed and dipped his body down to shield your naked form from sight. 

“I should be asking _you_ that! Just what did you think we stole away to do? Braid each other’s hair?” he asked sweaty and out of breath.

Kili clenched his eyes shut to avoid the sight and flailed his arms demonstratively, “I thought you’d be consummating in your _own_ chambers, not mine!”

Fili opened his mouth to retort, but then you both gave a quick look around and found that this… was not your room. Sharing a sheepish chuckle with one another, you both had the sense to be embarrassed, even though Fili laughed —rather aloofly— to Kili, “Oops. Sorry, brother. Our minds were not exactly in a lucid place tonight.”

Kili groaned and shielded his eyes with his hand and then turned around. “Please tell me you both aren’t hammered… forget it, I’m sleeping somewhere else.”

“You mean you aren’t enjoying the fruits of your labor, Kili? This is the direct result of your pairing us together, after all,” you said cheekily.

“Yeah, thank you so much for the reminder. I’ll be sure to recall my fortuitous efforts when I spend _my_ marriage consummation in _your_ bedchamber.”

“Rather spiteful, isn’t he?” you snickered after he made a hasty exit with a few more choice remarks. 

Fili nuzzled his nose with yours, his length still lodged inside of you and surprisingly still hard. “I owe him. If he hadn’t ridden out to retrieve you that night, I may not be waking up tomorrow with you in my arms, or…” He gasped and gave a slow thrust to emphasize his other point. 

“Mmm. Do you think he’d forgive us if we named our first child after him? Maybe we should go to our actual room.”

Fili peppered your face and neck with his affections, you giggled at the feel of his silver mustache beads tapping and sliding against the exposed skin. He began a slow thrusting. 

“No, we already came this far. Might as well finish the night.”

“You got another round in you?” you teased. 

Fili smirked and pinned your arms above your head. “I must needs to properly claim my wife. And I shall have you again and again and again.”

“Is that so?” Using your magic you conjured two naked duplicates of you that circled the bed. Fili looked around bewildered, but you felt his sex kick inside you, showing that he was far from offput. 

“Durin have mercy on me,” he laughed before diving in for another kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t care what anybody says: Fili is a sweet, sensitive, passionate lil soul. And if anybody dares to hurt his feelings, I’m coming after them with a throwing ax! >:[


End file.
